


Glimpse

by orphan_account



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, BDSM, Bodyswap, Denial, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fanfiction, Hurt/Comfort, Parallel Universes, Romance, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 167,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: To Glimpse: the spontaneous, uncontrollable act of traveling to a parallel universe.
Relationships: Courtney Miller/Shayne Topp
Comments: 22
Kudos: 34





	1. Courtney

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted on Wattpad. This serves as a public archive for it's first form as I edit it into original content.  
> I am sorry for putting you through this beautiful mess.

* * *

**This is the first draft.**

**I plan on editing this once I complete it, but for the meantime, please forgive any mistakes. Feedback and critique are more than welcome! (and yes, I am aware I started this in the biggest cliche ever).**

**Thank you!**

**\---**

Her head hurt, a dull throbbing that weighed on the back of her skull and pulled at her temples. The blaring siren of her phone's alarm clock didn't help either. _That's what I get for binging Schitt's Creek last night_ , Courtney Miller thought before leaning over her nightstand table and disabling her phone's alarm without looking at the screen. Courtney flopped back onto the bed, patting around until her hand landed on Jango's head. As she stroked Jango's head, Courtney looked around her room, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light.

Muffled light filtered through her pastel blue curtains, washing light over her cluttered room. Photo-collages of her friends and family hung on off-white walls, with assorted Smosh posters, stickers and fan-art scattered in between. A sliding door closet sat opposite her bed. In the corner, dirty clothes covered a desk and chair, a few articles managing to find their way onto the surrounding floor. Her room wasn't normally this messy, but between work and Jango, she found herself falling further and further behind on her day to day chores. Thankfully, she still managed to find the time to get the most important tasks done, like trash, food, and basic self-care. _Tonight. I'll do laundry tonight_ , she promised.

Courtney dragged herself out of bed, only to stumble backwards when the sudden vertical movement sent pain pulsing through her skull. She grabbed her nightstand to balance herself. After taking a few seconds to regain her composure and breathe, Courtney straightened out, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and pointer in hopes of quieting her head. No luck. Courtney sighed and turned to her bed, giving Jango a soft smile.

"Morning, Sleepy! Time to get up!" Even her own voice sent spikes of pain through her brain. The young pup whined in protest before stretching and leaping off the bed to stand at her feet. Without thinking, Courtney gave in to his smile, leaning down to place a kiss on his head. Jango licked her nose in response. Her face twisted into a grimace as she stood back up. Dumb. That was dumb. Courtney pinched her eyes closed as another wave of pain pulsed through her skull. Jango nudged her leg with a soft cry. Courtney peeked an eye open to see Jango giving her his best puppy eyes. "You're lucky you're so cute." She gave a weak smile. As routine, Courtney slipped away to her attached bathroom for a quick pitstop before brushing her teeth and hair. She didn't dare look at herself in the mirror, too afraid to confront the chaotic mess she knew would be staring back at her. Finished, she hobbled back into her room and to her closet, grabbing a light sweatshirt to throw over her pajamas.

After stuffing her phone into her sweatshirt pocket, Courtney trudged out of her room with Jango following close behind. She held off on looking at her phone, fearing that the screen would just amplify her worsening headache. It could wait anyway. Caffeine and Jango came first. She considered returning to her bathroom to throw back some Motrin or Tylenol but ultimately decided against it, figuring that taking either on an empty stomach would just wind up with her trading her headache for a stomachache. She'd reconsider after breakfast.

Courtney dragged herself into her living room and kitchen, leaning on the small kitchen island that separated the kitchen from the living room as she navigated the unlit room. Turning the lights on was not an option in her current state. Four barstools lined the island on the living room side, though junk mail and other assorted belongings covered two of them. A small basket full of cables and other phone accessories resided to one side of the island counter. Courtney turned into the small alcove that was her kitchen. A decent-sized fridge and gas stove sat against the wall opposite the living room. White wooden cabinets and draws topped with faux granite counters lined the corner walls with matching white cabinets mounted on the wall above them. Courtney narrowed in on her Keurig machine tucked between her sink and microwave, shuffling over as if her life depended on it. With her pounding headache, it very well could.

"Waiting for me in your usual spot, I see." Courtney patted her faithful caffeine dealer. Courtney paused. Waiting for her? What else was it going to do? Grow a pair of legs in the middle of the night and jump out the window? Courtney chuckled. _That could make for a good script_ , she mused. She always did come up with the oddest ideas when she was tired. Whether they were good or not, well, that was a whole other story.

After quickly popping a K-Cup into the Keurig, Courtney turned to the kitchen island and plugged her phone in. She really needed to remember to plug it in before heading to bed. On that note, she should also remember to go to bed at a reasonable hour, especially when she was scheduled to shoot the next day. She still didn't know how she was going to make it through the day's busy shooting schedule, not with this massive headache still beating up her brain. The last time she called in sick, Courtney Frickin' Miller happened. Who knows what perverted Courtney persona Shayne would come up with if she called out again. Then again, she did enjoy the bit. She enjoyed most of Shayne's bits, to be honest. Jango's high pitched whine shook Courtney from her thoughts.

"You want to go out, don't you buddy?" Courtney cooed. Courtney swiped Jango's leash and collar from the hook by the front door, and the duo quickly exited the apartment.

The morning sun felt like torture to her eyes as she walked Jango around the block. She loved Jango, but sometimes she wished he could walk himself. Sighing, Courtney cooed at Jango to do his business.

"Go. Go. Go." Jango happily wagged his tail as he sniffed the small patches of grass that separated the sidewalk from the road. Courtney groaned with a smile as she redirected her gaze towards the cracks littering the uneven sidewalk. Jango was a handful, a handful she loved and could never regret, but now that she was a single dog mom, she was definitely feeling the toll. Every walk. Every feeding. Everything was up to her, no matter how bad she felt. It wasn't Jango's fault. She could only blame herself. Courtney knew getting a dog would be a bad idea. She knew it well before she even got him, understanding that her lifestyle wasn't conducive to dog ownership, what with her busy schedule and the spontaneous nature of her job, but when her now ex-boyfriend had reassured her with a promise to help out she had let impulse to take over. For what it was worth, up until the breakup, he had kept his word, but now, with him out of the picture, she struggled with giving Jango the stable life she knew he deserved. Thankfully, she had a somewhat stable schedule working for Smosh. At least, it was enough of a schedule to give Jango the routine he needed.

"Good boy!" Courtney praised Jango as he finished doing his business. She quickly picked it up and tossed it in a nearby trashcan before heading back home.

As she reached her front door, she froze. She could hear her phone ringing from inside. Normally, she wouldn't panic over missing a call, but she recognized that ringtone. That was Ian's ringtone. Specifically, Ian's work phone, and it was far too early for him to be calling. She wasn't scheduled to be on set for another four hours. _Fuck, did I get the schedule wrong again?_

Fumbling with her apartment keys, Courtney scrambled into her apartment, dropping Jango's leash as she kicked the door closed behind her and rushed to the kitchen. The ringing stopped. Fuck. Courtney swiped the phone, unplugging it in the process. Five missed calls. All from Ian's work phone and six missed texts. Before Courtney could check the texts, another incoming call flashed on the screen. It was Ian.

"Is everything okay?" Courtney answered, trying to swallow the worry already building in her throat.

"Finally! What is with everyone not answering their phones? You know what, it doesn't matter." Ian fumed through the phone. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Panic and dread laced his words, sending Courtney's worry into overdrive. "I need you at the office, and ASAP. It's an emergency." And there it was. That one word. That was all it took for that worry to turn into full-blown panic. Courtney pulled the phone back and checked the time: 7:30 AM.

"I'll be there in 30 minutes," Courtney spat out without thinking. She raced out of the kitchen and into her room, turning her phone on to speakerphone and tossing it onto her bed. "What is this about? Are you hurt? Did someone..?"

"Breathe, Courtney. No one is hurt or anything like that," Ian assured her, though the waver in his voice left Courtney in doubt.

"Then what?"

"Not over the phone. Look, just get here as soon as you can, and can you stop by Shayne's?" Ian's words rushed into one another in a panic-induced ramble. "His phone is off or dead, or something. I don't know. I just need everyone at the office."

"On it." Courtney heard the familiar click of Ian hanging up. Throwing on some random band's shirt - she didn't bother to check which - and a pair of ripped denim jeans, Courtney stuffed some make-up into her bag and slipped on a pair of shoes. The urgency in Ian's voice had her on edge. What could be so immediate that it had Ian calling an emergency meeting this early in the morning? Courtney grabbed her phone off the bed and quickly flipped through her texts. Two texts were from last night: her dad wishing her a good night and Shane asking her if she was still up for a movie tomorrow, and then four from this morning: all from Ian telling her to call him immediately. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good.

Biting her bottom lip, Courtney tossed her phone into her purse and sprinted to the kitchen. After transferring her coffee to a travel mug which she then placed on the kitchen counter, Courtney grabbed a bottle of pills prescribed to Jango with a sad smile. She hated this part, but leaving Jango home alone and unmedicated, let alone uncrated, just wasn't an option, not with his severe separation anxiety. Despite reading countless books on the subject and putting in hour after hour of training, nothing worked. Even professional trainers struggled with managing Jango's anxiety, a few going as far as calling him a hopeless cause.

Eventually and thankfully, she had managed to locate a veterinary behaviorist who prescribed him a short-term sedative along with daily anti-anxiety medication. While in the end, the daily anti-anxiety medication just made Jango worse, the short-term sedative became a lifesaver. Still, Courtney hated having to rely on it, taking Jango to work with her as much as possible and using a dog sitter on the days that she couldn't. Unfortunately, the dog sitter wasn't scheduled to arrive for another four hours, and Courtney didn't have the time to waste begging her to come in early.

Using a pill pocket, Courtney tricked Jango into taking his medicine before leading him into his high impact crate, dented and bent from Jango's numerous escape attempts. After latching the crate closed, Courtney turned her speakers on, setting up a long playlist of calming music that she had created just for Jango. Without a word, Courtney forced herself out of the house and into her car.  
  
  
  


She drove in silence, constantly stealing glances at her phone. The anxiety twisting her stomach begged for an update from Ian, or from any Smosh member for that matter, for someone to tell her what was going on. The black screen just mocked her. What if Ian was lying? What if someone was hurt? Courtney mentally kicked herself. Ian wouldn't lie, not on purpose at least. Courtney looked up and immediately stepped on the breaks, her small car screeching to a stop. She had been so lost in thought that she nearly missed Shayne's apartment. Not that it mattered. There wasn't a parking space in sight. _Typical Los Angelos. Fucking hell_ , Courtney cursed under her breath as she checked her phone for the time: 7:46 AM. The light from the screen aggravated her already pounding headache, a pain amplified by the budding dread boiling up from her stomach.

She did not have time for this. She told Ian thirty minutes. Even if she found a space and got Shayne up and out in the next five minutes, morning traffic would see them getting to the office at 8:15 at the earliest. If only Shayne could remember to charge his phone for once. Courtney took a deep breath in. She needed to cool it. _This isn't Shayne's fault._ No. Maybe this wasn't anybody's fault, whatever this meeting was about.

Courtney circled the block, scanning the curb for a place to park. Nothing. She found herself back where she started, idling in front of Shayne's apartment complex. Courtney pounded the steering wheel. _Fuck._ She couldn't afford another ticket, but she had no choice. She pulled into the apartment complex's private parking lot and hoped for the best, praying that she didn't block or anger someone or worse, get a ticket. It wouldn't be the first time. With the car parked, Courtney sprinted to Shayne's front door and started frantically knocking on it.

"SHAYNE!" She yelled, placing her ear to the door. Silence "Wake up, Shayne! Or I swear!" Courtney bit her lip, fighting against her headache as she continued to pound on Shayne's front door. The vibrations distorted her vision. After a minute of knocking, Courtney sighed, bending down to retrieve the spare key tucked into a special compartment under his doormat. She didn't like the idea of just barging in on him, but he said the key was for emergencies. Smosh emergencies counted, right? Courtney unlocked the door and entered. "Shayne, it's Courtney. I'm coming in."

Not finding Shayne in the main areas, Courtney navigated to his bedroom where she found the door cracked open. It was probably her nerves, or maybe the absurdity of the situation, but a wave of dread suddenly consumed her as she approached the door. Her skin went cold. Her heart skipped a beat. Time seemed to stop. What if he was dead?

It wasn't like him to sleep in. No. Shayne didn't do sleeping in. He was the most morning morning person that she knew. Always the first to wake during their summer and winter games. Always the first to arrive at the office. Hell, he was the one normally pounding on her door on the rare occasion she slept through her alarm. Something had to be wrong then. He wouldn't...

Courtney pressed her lips together and shook her head. No, she couldn't think like that. He was fine. Just sleeping. Swallowing her fear, Courtney cracked the door open and looked in. Relief washed over her as she saw Shayne sprawled across his bed, his chest rising and falling as he slept, his face pressed into his pillow.

"Shayne, time to wake up," she cooed. No response. Deep down she knew she didn't have time to be subtle. Ian and the others were waiting for them, but he just seemed so peaceful, so happy. Waking him up almost felt like a crime. "C'mon Shayne," she said louder, this time knocking on the door. Nothing. Courtney hesitantly approached the bed. "Wake up sleepyhead," Shayne mumbled in response and rolled over onto his back. Courtney chuckled, leaning over to place a hand on his shoulder. Courtney froze as she felt his bare skin under her hand. She had been so focused on waking him that she had failed to notice that he wasn't wearing a shirt. _What if he's naked under there?_ Courtney squished her face in disgust, bringing her other hand up to shield her eyes. "Shayne!" She shouted, giving him a light shake.

"Go away." Shayne grumbled, taking her hand off his shoulder and burying his face into his pillow once more.

"You need to wake up Shayne." Courtney shook him again, this time using a bit more force. "And please say you're wearing boxers under there." Shayne once again flopped over on to his back, this time with a loud groan. Courtney grabbed his shoulder again, using both hands to shake him awake.

"Stoppppp," Shayne whined as he swatted at her hands.

"No, we're going to be late."

"Late for what? I'm not even scheduled for today, remember?" Shayne tried to use his arm to cover his face, but Courtney yanked it away, forcing him to look at her. "Go aw-" Shayne fell silent, the annoyance on his face melting into concern. Courtney bowed her head, realizing her face had given her away. The panic. The urgency. Everything. Usually, she could fake it better, play it cool and hide behind her acting skills. Courtney sighed. Who was she kidding? There was no acting this away. Acting took practice. This. There was no practicing this. Even her improv skills couldn't help her now. She was a mess both mentally and physically, a product of racing out of the house without her usual caffeine consumption and makeup routine.

Courtney bit her lip and tentatively took a seat on the edge of Shayne's bed, still refusing to make eye contact. The air thickened as silence overtook the room. Courtney let her hands fall onto her lap, prompting Shayne to roll onto his side. He propped himself up on one arm while using his free hand to reach out and grab her hand. Courtney bolted to her feet. What was she doing? Sitting here taking comfort in his presence. She wasn't here for comfort, though the panic flowing through her bones screamed otherwise. No. Comfort could wait. There wasn't time for this. Whatever this was.

"Ian called. He's been trying to reach you, but I guess your phone is off or something." Shayne sat up, swinging his legs over the bed. Courtney noted how careful he was to keep his blanket over his lap. "He needs us at the office and ASAP. It's an emergency. Those were his exact words, pretty much." Courtney checked her phone for the time - 8:00 AM - before giving Shayne one last a look over and walking to the door. "You got 10 minutes, Bucko," Courtney said and closed the door behind her.

On any other day, Courtney would flop down on Shayne's living room couch, put some stupid show on and fool around on social media while she waited, but social media wasn't an option. Just the thought of browsing Twitter or Instagram had waves of nausea crashing over her. And with her nerves shot, standing still wasn't even an option. She needed to keep moving, keep her body busy; otherwise, the dread would catch up and overtake her. It felt like pins and needles, like that painful numbness when a limb falls asleep. Except this numbness crept along her spine, threatening to paralyze her once it reached her head. She could do her make-up maybe, except she left her purse in her car. Sighing, Courtney settled on pacing back and forth in Shayne's living room.

After what seemed like ages, a disheveled Shayne emerged from his room. With a solemn nod, Shayne led Courtney out of his apartment and to her car.

"Shayne, can you drive? I've got a monster headache. I think it was pure panic that got me to your place safely." Shayne simply nodded, stuffing himself into the driver's seat.

-.-.-.-

"Did Ian say anything about what's going on?" They had been driving for roughly ten minutes when Shayne finally broke the silence. Courtney kind of wished he hadn't. She already had enough voices in her head pestering her for answers. She didn't need another.

"Just that it was an emergency. But the way he said it." She took a deep breath in and stared out the window. "Whatever it is, it's serious and not in a good way." Courtney dropped her head on the window. Every bump in the road vibrated through her skull, the pain masking the dread and panic that still threatened to take over. Never in a million years did she think she would be thankful for a headache.

"How's your head?" Shayne asked.

"Distracting."

"Distracting?" Shayne quirked an eyebrow at her. She responded with a weak smile. What was she supposed to say? The truth? That the pain was keeping her intrusive thoughts at bay and in turn staving off a full-blown panic attack. He'd believe her, sure, but she couldn't put that on him. Not to mention how bad that would make her look. Using pain to feel better? The last thing she wanted to do was to infer that she had some weird pain fetish, or had any inclination towards self-injury.

"Don't worry about it."

"Well, if you need my ears..."

"It's nothing. Really." She cut him off just as they stopped at a red light. Shayne turned to face her. How could he be so calm at a time like this? Courtney groaned, banging her head against the window. "I'm such an idiot." She pulled back, grabbing her head.

"Did you take anything for your headache? Motrin? Tylenol?" Courtney shook her head 'no'.

"I was planning to after breakfast, but then Ian called and well..." Courtney stopped, her words catching in the back of her throat. Shayne reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. Time stopped.

Not literally, of course, but it felt that way. Courtney stared at his hand. Something about his touch made the world fade away. She wished she could explain it, define the phenomenon and bottle it up into pill form. God, that sounded cheesy and maybe just a little creepy, but it was true. He was a comfort she could always trust. Sure, she had her best friend, Olivia, and her sisters, and sometimes Ian, but it wasn't the same. Olivia had her boyfriend, her sisters, well, they were in a different state most of the time, and Ian? He had Smosh to run.

Why Shayne though? There were so many others she could turn to. Just about anyone at Smosh really. They all really did care about each other, after all. Courtney chalked it up to Shayne and her joining Smosh around the same time. Being the two newbies in an already well-established friends group sort of forced them together. Whenever they were between shoots or on break, Noah and Keith would go one way, while Olivia often snuck off for some quality time with her boyfriend, which left Shayne and her alone to bond. Even after they had fully integrated into the squad, she always found herself gravitating towards him. Always as just friends, of course.

"Want me to stop at a drive-thru?" Shayne suggested. Courtneys sighed. Of course, he was more concerned with her than whatever was going on at the office. It made sense. He was the rock of the group, after all, always taking care of the squad when things got bad. Almost as if he was worried more about them than about whatever thing had them in such a panic.

"I don't want you worrying about me, Shayne. Really. I'm fine." Courtney winced as a car horn blared from behind them.

"You don't look fine." Shayne squeezed her shoulder once more. Courtney glared at him. "C'mon! It's no big deal. We'll just pop into the next drive-thru, get something fast, and eat as we drive. You have pain killers in the glove compartment, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Courtney wanted to give in. Breakfast sounded amazing right now. A persuasive heat radiated off Shayne's hand as he squeezed her shoulder once more - a warm reassurance that begged for a 'yes'. Courtney closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. _I'm stronger than this._ "We don't have time. I told Ian I'd be there in 30 minutes and that was-" Courtney checked the dashboard clock. "That was 35 minutes ago." Courtney's stomach clenched, twisting in on itself. She could feel it rising in her chest, threatening her with a wave of nausea.

They were already late. _Why did I tell him 30 minutes? No one gets anywhere in LA in 30 minutes. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ Courtney berated herself. She gave Ian her word, and now she was going to let him down. She could call him, should call him, but what if he was busy or mad or something? The last thing she wanted to be was a burden.

"I'm sure Ian would understand," Shayne said.

"You didn't hear him." Courtney dropped her gaze to her lap, shrugging Shayne's hand off her shoulder. Her mind blurred into chaos as she tried to find the words to describe it. "Do you remember that time when Noah nearly got frostbite?" Shayne nodded. "It was like that but worse." Courtney pressed her lips together as she stared out the front window. "Green light." Courtney nodded to the road.

"Afterwards then," Shayne continued, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I can take care of myself, you know."

"I know," Shayne sighed. Silence once again took over as Courtney shifted in her seat to observe Shayne. Shayne read her like a book, extrapolating the panic on her face before she had even spoken. Shayne's face showed nothing, but history told her that Shayne did, in fact, panic.

"I don't get it," Courtney mused out loud.

"Get what? Friends take care of one another."

"No. Not that." Courtney squirmed in her seat. "Here I am, a frickin' mess... Couldn't even hide it from you. And then here you are. Cool as a cucumber. I don't get it."

"What's to get? I'm just a better actor," Shayne chuckled. Courtney wanted to laugh, wanted to smack him on the shoulder and fall into their usual banter. She wanted this to be just another boring drive to the office, her playing with her traffic slinky while Shayne mocked her childishness. She'd quip a stupid joke, and he'd break out that obnoxious laugh that she loved.

"I'm serious," Courtney said. Shayne's smile fell.

"I'm just as worried as you are. Trust me." Shayne pressed his lips together. "I just..." Shayne trailed off as they hit another red light. Courtney groaned. They had barely made it two blocks since the last red light thanks to LA traffic, and they still had a good ways to go. "Here." Suddenly, Shayne grabbed her hand and pressed her fingers to his neck. "Feel that." His heart raced under her fingers, physical proof of his panic. Courtney kept her hand on his neck despite Shayne letting go.

"So, you ARE a human?" She joked, squeezing his neck.

"Real funny." Shayne reached for her hand but stopped midway, instead resting his hand on the console separating the two front seats. Courtney's stomach twisted. She pulled her hand back into her lap. She made a big deal about calling Smosh Squad family, reassuring the fans that the squad members were like her siblings. It wasn't a total lie. Noah and Keith were like her annoying little brothers - it didn't matter that Keith was older than her, and Olivia was like her awesome twin sister. But Shayne? Sure, she called Shayne her big brother on screen, but how much of that was the truth? Heat flushed her cheeks. These small moments, these passing touches and intimate exchanges. Sometimes they seemed too intimate for 'just friends'.

Of course, she would never dare admit to it, let alone act on it, what with their contract with Defy stipulating that relationships between co-workers were strictly prohibited. Instead, she tucked away any non-platonic feelings and convinced herself that they didn't exist. _If it wasn't for that contract..._

Ridiculous. She refocused herself on the red traffic light. _Stupid traffic. Stupid light._ At this rate, they wouldn't get there for another thirty minutes, fifteen if they didn't hit another red light, but that was unlikely.

Courtney picked at her pant leg, pulling at the loose denim threads that she could find. The dread and panic simmered her stomach, threatening to bubble up and burn her alive. She shuffled her feet, trying to kick the fire out. Shayne's large hand fell onto her knee.

"Breathe." Shayne squeezed her knee before grabbing her hand to stop her from ruining her jeans. The dread shriveled up, retracting its tendrils from her throat and curling back into her stomach. "Being late isn't the end of the world." Courtney swallowed. He knew her way too well.

"Sure feels that way sometimes." Courtney bowed her head, lacing her fingers with his. "Thank you." Shayne simply nodded in response.

"You know, he could just be overreacting." Courtney quirked a questioning eyebrow at him. He gave her a reassuring smile. "Ian, that is. We both know how he gets when he's stressed."

"I hope so," Courtney said and turned to look out the passenger side window, watching buildings blur into horizontal lines as they sped past. "Do you ever wonder where we would be without Smosh?" She closed her eyes. She'd be back home in Utah, probably still working at that stupid pharmacy. She felt the car slow to a stop, and Shayne pulled his hand away.

"We're here."


	2. Shayne

Shayne kept a close eye on Courtney as they rushed through Defy Media's lobby and towards the elevators. He hated seeing her like this, walking on eggshells, so anxious that she made standing still look painful. Taking care of people. It was his go-to coping method to keep his anxiety at bay. Though the opposite could be said at the moment, what with him being unable to tend to her and thus ease his worries. Instead, the worry just piled up on top of his own anxiety surrounding Ian's call. As much as he hated to admit it, it frustrated him. Courtney just shoving him off with excuse after excuse frustrated him. She frustrated him. Deep down, he knew that she was right. They didn't have time to stop for breakfast. They didn't have time for anything. It still didn't make things any better. He still pined to help her, and she still pushed him away.

Somehow, though, he managed to maintain a calm facade, playing the shoulder to lean on despite his panic vibrating inside. This was the mask he wore; the mask he had been wearing for some time now. The face he chose to show to the public eye and only removed around his closest friends on special occasions. Over time, the mask grew stronger; Shayne's acting skills improved and his confidence increased until concealing his insecurities and vulnerability became second nature. Today, though, the fortified mask felt more like a paper replica that he kept having to glue together.

Shayne stretched his neck as they reached the elevator. The digital screen mounted above the elevator's stainless steel doors indicated that the elevator was currently on the second floor. A warm ball of heat expanded in his stomach as he watched Courtney anxiously bounce her weight between feet. It was a silly pet peeve that he rarely let get to him. On any other day, he ignored her restless movement with ease, honing his focus on whatever task was at hand. It still irked him on the inside, the small movements an irritating distraction that bit at his nerves, but with no other stressors on his plate, he stomached it. Today, with this unknown emergency hanging over his head, he found the need for stillness boiling to the surface, urging him to reach out and hold her. For a split second, he considered it, considered reaching out a hand and pulling her into him, but the thought quickly dissipated. Maybe if they were alone or even somewhere else, but never at the office where all it would take would be some unaware onlooker misinterpreting their friendship as something more and spreading a career-ending rumor.

"You getting in?" Courtney's voice broke his train of thought. Shayne looked up to find Courtney in the elevator, still shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for him to join her.

"Lost in thought. Sorry," Shayne said, pressing the button for the eighth floor before taking a spot next to Courtney. The elevator doors closed, and Shayne felt her hand on his.

"Care to share?" Shayne turned to Courtney, his eyes locking onto hers. His breath hitched upon seeing her face. Empty. With the passion and vigor that usually emanated from her eyes gone and her flushed skin weighing heavy on her face, she looked empty. It was truly terrifying how one word - how just the mention of an emergency - could drain someone so quickly. He reached up and swiped a loose hair behind her ear, unconsciously caressing her cheek with his thumb. Suddenly, Courtney pushed back, rushing to the center of the elevator where she started pacing. Shayne's stomach fell. He hated seeing her like this. He hated seeing any of his friends in pain. Without thinking, Shayne reached out and grabbed her hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Courtney glared at him, though, surprisingly, she didn't pull away as he expected.

"Do you want an answer or not?" Shayne held his breath, pleading with his eyes upon realizing he sounded far angrier than he had intended to. He blamed his nerves. Anxiety scratched at his throat as it climbed out of his mouth, dug its claws into his mask, and pulled. His will to keep fight back, keep his cool and swallow his panic dwindled under her scrutinizing gaze. _Why do you have to be like this?_ Shayne thought, his frustration speaking up. A metallic taste permeated his mouth as he bit his tongue. He couldn't let it win, but if he didn't spill now, he feared that the frustration of holding back would boil over into anger. "Please." The word sounded foreign on his tongue, a breathy whine that should belong to a high school boy and not a full-grown man. Courtney's gaze softened as she stepped towards him until they stood less than an arm's length apart. Shayne tentatively reached out his other hand and waited for her to take it. Shayne held his breath as he watched her look down at his hand and then back up at him. "I need you to breathe and listen. Can you do that?"

"I'm listening." Instead of grabbing his hand, she let go, sliding up next to them so they stood shoulder to shoulder facing the elevator doors. Shayne gave a weak smile as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Remember how you asked how I could be so calm?" Courtney nodded 'yes', intertwining her fingers with his. "I'm not, and I showed you as much. But that..." Shayne took a deep breath in as he watched the elevator climb to the fourth floor. Time was ticking. Once they reached the eighth floor and those doors opened, that was it. If he didn't get it out now, he would have to shove it back down and pray that he didn't explode. "I focus my worry onto something else, something that I can actually do something about."

"Like worrying about me...." Her voice trailed off, barely audible through the gaudy elevator music. Shayne nodded, sucking a deep breath in. The frustration and pent up anger dissipated, leaving him with just his worry and anxiety.

"I can't do anything about this meeting. I can't even tell you what this is about. But a headache? I can do something about that." Shayne fought the urge to pull back into himself upon hearing the words out loud. He sounded so pathetic, getting so worked up over Courtney of all people. Not that Courtney wasn't special to him or anything. She was one of his best friends after all, and, other than Damien, she was the Smosh member with whom he was the closest. That was it, though. It wasn't like she was his girlfriend or anything like that. Best friends and nothing more, and he was okay with that. Their friendship was intimate enough without complicating it with a romantic aspect. Courtney squeezed his hand, urging him to continue his explanation. "But not if you don't let me." In another universe, the elevator doors would have opened, and Shayne would have left Courtney behind, marching out like the drama queen he sounded like, but this wasn't that universe. Instead, a sticky silence took hold as the elevator pinged on the sixth floor before continuing its ascension.

"I didn't mean.." It was Courtney who finally broke the silence, sending a sharp pain through his gut. She thought this was her fault. A sour tang coated his tongue. That was the last thing he wanted her to think. This was his fault, and his alone.

"This is not your fault," Shayne interrupted her, hoping to stop that thought in its tracks. "I just need better coping methods. Ones that don't require outside cooperation." Shayne chuckled, though even he could hear the shallowness of it all. What was there to laugh at? His pathetic mental fragility? Thankfully, the elevator stopped. _This is it._ They were on the eighth floor.

The Smosh office overflowed with occupants, with everyone and anyone even remotely associated with Smosh jammed inside the room. Smosh Games and the Smosh Squad gathered around Ian's desk, while the entire film crew took up the opposite corner, leaving various other crew members scattered in between. At first glance, it seemed everyone was there. Shayne stole a glance at Courtney who stood frozen in the doorway just inches ahead of him. His stomach clenched. He knew how much she hated to be late, and now to be the last one to arrive, he swore he felt dread, maybe even despair, radiating off of her. Courtney tensed, shifting her weight onto one foot as if preparing to bolt out the door. She took a step back, unintentionally backing into Shayne.

"Sorry for holding everyone up. I didn't..." Heads turned as Courtney spoke up, her voice trembling as she apologized. Shayne scanned their faces, hoping to read the room. Emptiness stared back at him. A room full of emotionless faces, all drained of life. Shayne noted a few annoyed glares scattered about. Shayne knew those faces would be the ones Courtney would focus on. It was human nature to focus on the negative, after all.

"It's my fault," Shayne interrupted as he stepped forward to stand next to her. "This idiot here forgot to charge his phone last night." Shayne pointed to himself, hoping to redirect any negativity onto himself. He could handle it, at least better than Courtney could in her current state. He heard a single stifled laugh from Damien, but that was it. Everyone else either nodded or turned away with a collective groan. Shayne let go of a breath he had been unconsciously holding and pushed a shell-shocked Courtney into the room and towards the Smosh Squad. She hobbled over to Olivia, taking a spot against the wall behind Ian's desk. She shot Shayne an apologetic look before bowing her head.

 _Just act natural, Shayne, you gotta stay strong,_ Shayne reassured himself as he took a step into the room, still sticking close to the doorway. Despite the chaos of voices clogging the room, Shayne only heard the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock hanging above the door. It taunted him, poking at his insecurities and riling up the voices in his head. _This is my fault._ He caused her to be late. That despair radiating off her. The dread. That was his fault. If he hadn't... If he had just... Shayne clenched his fist.

"It's fine. I'm just glad you're finally here," Ian sighed. "And don't worry. We're still waiting on Keith... As usual." Relief briefly washed over Shayne before he took in Ian's face. Dead eyes stared at back at him, completely void of life or emotion. What scared Shayne the most though, was Ian's face. Ian's sickly white complexion weighed heavy on his face, pulling against his bones and sinking in on itself as if a dementor from Azkaban had drained his soul.

A cold finger trailed down Shayne's spine. He whipped his head around. Nothing. No one was behind him. Shayne chalked it up to his anxiety playing games on him and shook it off. Shayne turned to Courtney, giving her a reassuring smile before sulking off towards Damien. He purposefully positioned himself in a spot where he could still keep an eye on her without drawing any attention to himself. Not that he thought people would notice in their current state of mind, but he didn't want to risk it.

"That's right. I did it. Daddy won the throne." Damien mock bowed from his seat. Shayne cringed. He loved Damien. He did. The dude was his best friend and a hell of a good person to have around in a shitty situation, but that didn't make up for how cringy Damien got under pressure. Bragging about getting a chair? Sure, the majority were forced to either stand or sit on the ground, but calling himself daddy, that was just too much. Still, Shayne appreciated the attempt. Damien's light-hearted banter helped balance the darkness he could feel brewing in his stomach. "So, you and Courtney came here together, huh?" Damien smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Shayne.

"Like I said, I forgot to charge my phone last night." Shayne looked over at Courtney, causing Damien to do the same. Somewhere between working on So Random! and the years spent as roommates, hiding from Damien had become a near-impossible task. They knew each other too well, which was both a blessing and a curse.

"Right... And you just happened to be with Courtney." Damien elbowed him in jest. Shayne glared at him. It was Damien who had first picked up on the tension between Courtney and himself. It wasn't like Shayne had been completely unaware. He had felt their friendship shifting for the past few months, but ignoring it had seemed like the easier solution at the time. It still did. Exploring the shift only reeked of trouble. He had told Damien as much, but that didn't stop the teasing.

"Real mature," Shayne groaned.

"I'm not the one who can't keep their eyes off of her, hmm?" Damien raised an eyebrow as his smile widened - a fake smile meant more for show than for comfort. As much as he hated it, Damien's teasing was a welcomed distraction. He'd even go as far as to thank Damien for the distraction if he didn't think bringing awareness to the situation would just turn their mouths sour.

"You're an idiot. Do you know that? And not just any idiot, a stupid blind idiot," Shayne huffed, a genuine smile briefly lighting his face.

"You can't deny it, so I win." Damien danced in his seat, a small victory dance that nearly sent him falling to the floor.

"Since when was this a competition?" Shayne's voice cracked with stifled laughter as he watched Damien struggle to keep himself from falling. A laugh broke through his clamped lips, causing Shayne to cover his mouth with his hand. He didn't need any more disapproving glares coming his way.

"It isn't," Damien deadpanned. "But since I win... You and Courtney? And be serious." Shayne sighed; the banter was nice while it lasted. With Damien's tone shifting the light around them into a darker color, Shayne could already feel the tension and worry bubbling to the surface, eager to once again whittle away at his nerves and bones. He sucked in a deep breath of air, hoping to force it back down.

"Ian told her to pick me up. It's not like she chose to or anything. Pretty sure she would've rather left me behind if she had the choice." Shayne gave a hollow chuckle, ignoring the weight of his stomach dropping in his gut. It was the truth, though. Courtney hated to be late. He knew that since the day he met her. She did everything and anything she could to avoid being late. If leaving him behind had been an option, he knew she would've done it in a heartbeat if it meant getting here on time. It stung, but he understood. Damien simply nodded, stealing a glance at Courtney. "As I've said before, there's nothing between us," Shayne reassured himself more so than Damien. "By the way, do you have any idea about what's going on?"

"Same boat as you, buddy." Shayne gave Damien a puzzled look. Rumors spread fast within in the Smosh family, and secrets, well keeping a secret at Smosh equated to forcing a whale into a house - impossible. Honestly, it was a miracle Damien was the only one aware of what he referred to as 'The Courtney Situation'. Then again, Damien was a good friend who could keep his mouth shut.

"Ah, look who finally decided to join us." Matt Raub sauntered over, slapping Shayne on the back.

"Gee, it's good to see you too," Shayne groaned, rubbing his back where Matt had slapped him.

"Think we should tease him about Courtney?" Damien faux whispered to Matt Raub. Okay, maybe Damien couldn't keep a secret after all. Shayne pleaded with Damien with his eyes. He didn't need this now, and least of all, not from Matt Raub of all people, someone who held power over his career. He doubted Matt would do anything. Though Matt Raub worked predominantly with Smosh Games, the few occasions they did work together, such as for winter and summer games, told Shayne that Matt wasn't one to hold his title over anyone's head or anything like that. At least, not in a serious way. Not that anyone at Smosh would do such a thing. Matt would, however, tease him into oblivion. The guy was a kid in a grown-up body, after all. Shayne crossed his fingers, praying the producer wouldn't take Damien's bait.

"Only if you're in high school," Matt Raub quipped. Shayne grinned at Damien who simply stuck his tongue out. "Now up up up you go, little boy." Matt Raub motioned for Damien to stand up. Shayne sighed; if it weren't for the physical tension swallowing the room, he'd swear it was just another day at the office. A bizarre one where Smosh main and Smosh Games were intermingling, but just another day all the same. He watched Damien challenge, Matt, locking eyes with Matt as he wiggled into the seat. Matt crossed his arms and held his ground, tapping his fingers against his forearm.

"But da-ad," Damien whined but complied, giving up his chair.

"Good son." Matt Raub sat down, placing his arms on the armrests to sit like a king. "So you're wondering what is going on?" A spark of hope filtered through Shayne's mind. Matt knew something, and if he was this cheery while knowing something, then whatever it was couldn't be so bad, right? Then again, everyone coped differently. He may not be a certified psychologist, but he had taken enough psychology courses to know that appearances can be deceiving. It wasn't unusual for someone to use comedy to cope.

"You overheard?" Damien asked.

"No. But what else would you be talking about?" Matt Raub rolled his eyes."Look now I'm not saying I know for sure." Shayne held his breath. "And this is all speculation. But if I had to guess, with Defy's recent layoffs across the company, they've decided Smosh is the next to go." A thin fault line twisted through Shayne's mask, cracking down the center and threatening to release his bottled nerves. Shayne swallowed his breath, taking quick shallow breaths. _Keep it together, Shayne. You're stronger than this._ Shayne closed his eyes and took another deep breath in, temporarily regaining his composure.

"You can't be serious. We've been having the best week yet; views were going up. We were pulling in new subscribers," Shayne replied, his words falling over themselves in panic. The tendrils of dread whipped at his facade, latching onto the fault line and pulling it apart. Shayne bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, hoping the pain would overtake the dread and allow his mask to remain intact. _There's no way Smosh is over._

"The same was said about Sourcefed. They were having their best month yet, and then boom. They got the ax." Shayne focused in on Matt Raub's hands, watching the producer mime his words for show. Shayne didn't know how many times Matt Raub had accidentally decked him while talking. Shayne unconsciously moved out of hitting range.

"Well, it was nice knowing you, Shayne." Damien reached out his hand for a handshake.

"You won't be getting rid of me that easily." Shayne refused to look at Damien as he shook his hand, instead eyeing Courtney sulking in the corner. _Will we still hang out if Smosh ends?_ Shayne's face paled. He never anticipated life without Smosh, always picturing his and Smosh's future closely entwined, but now that it was a real possibility, why was his biggest concern his friendship with Courtney? Friendships didn't pay rent. Sure, he had his role on 'The Goldbergs', but that wasn't enough to cover the bills. Auditioning would be easier this time around, but that didn't make it any better. It still meant getting rejected daily.

"Well, looks like my job is done," Matt Raub broke the silence, drawing Shayne back into their conversation.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Thanks," Shayne mumbled, half aware of what was going on. His thoughts bounced against his skull. This was it. Smosh was ending. His life as he knew it was over. He'd probably never see these people again. Shayne stared at Matt Raub who shot him a shit-eating grin, grabbing the chair by the armrests as he stood. With a knowing nod, Matt shuffled away, taking the chair along with him.

"Well, then," Damien weakly chuckled, his face falling upon seeing Shayne's face. "You good man?" Damien placed a hand on Shayne's shoulder. Shayne bobbed his head, feeling his voice retreat into his stomach. His mask creaked as small branches spidered out from the fault line still threatening to split his facade in half.

"He said he could be wrong, right?" Shayne tried to reassure himself.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." A sweaty Keith barged in, folding over himself as he clutched his knees and caught his breath.

"Took you long enough," Noah chimed in.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Keith sighed, trudging over to Noah. "I would have been here sooner if someone had given me a ride when I asked." Keith glared at Noah.

"You wouldn't need a ride if you just got your damn license," Noah spat back.

"Really? You're going there." Keith rolled up his sleeves, prompting Noah to do the same. This wasn't their usual play fighting. The energy was all wrong. No smiles. No laughter. Just built-up stress and anxiety looking for an outlet. He should stop this. He needed to stop this, needed to be the voice of reason like he always was. That was his role as their surrogate big brother, yet he couldn't find the will to care. Shayne dug his fingernails into his palm as he watched Keith take a swing at Noah, thankfully missing.

"ENOUGH!" Ian slammed his fist down on his desk, his roaring voice cutting through the tension. Silence fell over the room, heads turning to Ian standing behind his desk. "I know everyone's on edge right now. Nerves are shot. Everyone's patience is wearing thin. But now is not the time for fighting." Ian placed a hand on Courtney's shoulder as he stepped around her and his desk to take a seat on his desk's corner.

"Well maybe if you just told us what this was all about already," Lasercorn blurted out, earning him a backhanded stomach slap from both Mari and Joven. "What? It's true!" He grumbled. Shayne pulled a face. Lasercorn wasn't wrong. The anticipation of not knowing only added fuel to the panic. Even just a hint about what this emergency meeting was about would have quelled some of the heat. It was basic psychology. People tended to catastrophize in these situations, often falling victim to a stream of 'what if' scenarios that did nothing to ease their nerves. Shayne even found himself doing just this despite knowing how detrimental doing so could be. Then again, the hint Matt Raub gave had sent him into a spiral of despair, so maybe not.

"If you would just let me speak." Ian dragged his hand over his face. "I got a call this morning from corporate." He took a deep breath in. "It's not good." Ian let a heavy silence take over. Shayne looked over to Courtney, his face falling as he watched her slide down the wall, pulling her knees into herself. "Here. It's easier if you just hear it for yourself." Ian grabbed the office phone from his desk and put a voicemail on speaker. He fast forward through a bit, the distorted audio piercing the silence. An unfamiliar voice cackled through the phone's speakers when Ian finally stopped fast-forwarding and hit play.

"...on such short notice, but by California law, we are required to let our subsidiaries and outstanding employees know that Defy Media will be ceasing operations within the next sixty days, so by January 2nd..." Ian cut the voicemail off short. Silence.

"What does this mean?" Boze was the first to speak up, which didn't surprise Shayne. Besides Damien, she was the newest to join their little family, so it made sense that the news wouldn't hit as hard.

"It means we're boned." Their lead writer spoke up.

"Yes. But more precisely. We have until January 2nd to finish up any on-going projects and find a new job." Ian filled in. "So yeah, come January, we're fired."

Shayne stumbled backwards as a shock-wave pulsed through the room. There it was. That one word to end it all. His world was over. Shayne frantically looked around, his heart racing in his ear as he watched the walls start closing in on him. He tried to take a deep breath in but found the air catching on his throat, sending him into a coughing fit.

"You okay?" He heard Damien ask, and suddenly, he felt it, everyone's eyes on him, watching him, judging him. He knew what they were thinking. How could he be so weak? He was supposed to be the strong one, the one they leaned on for comfort. How could he let them down like this? How could he let his mask fall? Shayne bolted from the room. Eyes closed, Shayne barreled through the hallway towards the stairwell, racing down all eight flights of stairs and through building's lobby until he felt the sun scald his skin and the thick air burn his lungs. His entire form trembled, his mask shattering into dust and releasing his pent up panic and anxiety to the world. With a heartbreaking cry, Shayne twisted around and slammed his fist into the glass building over and over until his knuckles turned into a bloody pulp.

Shayne stared at his blood smeared across the glass, his chest heaving as he panted from the stress. Shayne forced his body to move, dragging his uninjured hand across the building as he followed its perimeter into an alley. Shayne pressed his back to the building and slid down, letting his head rest against his knees as he started to sob. His body quaked with each stuttered breath as he let his emotions pour out. He stayed there for what seemed like hours, ignoring the passing whispers from the sidewalk. He couldn't muster the energy to care let alone regain his composure to address them properly. He could barely even think straight what with the throbbing pain radiating from his hand and the mental anguish of losing Smosh clouding his mind. All he could do was tuck up into a ball and let the world fall away.

A familiar voice echoed through the alley, calling his name out over and over. _Courtney?_ Shayne snuck a look through his tear blurred eyes. No one. Just his imagination. He, once again, buried his head in his knees. Of course, she wouldn't come looking for him. It was stupid to even think that. The last thing she should do was look for him. She had better things to do, like tend to herself. Plus, he didn't deserve any comfort, let alone any comfort from her. A heavy sob wracked his body at the thought of her hand on him. He shoved his shoulder only to be surprised when he felt what he thought was an imaginary hand squeeze it tighter. Maybe he wasn't hallucinating... Shayne looked up to see green eyes staring back at him.

"Breakfast?" Courtney asked.


	3. Courtney

Silence overtook the alleyway as Courtney hovered over a broken Shayne who was still leaning against the building, his arms holding his knees against his chest. Despite Shayne's attempt to hide his face, his head buried in his arms, the way his body shook with each jagged breath gave him away. He was crying. Courtney clutched her hand to her chest, feeling her heart melt into a thick tar and settle in her stomach. A few stray tears bubbled up, latching to her eyelashes. She refused to let them fall, taking a deep breath through her nose as she wiped them away with the back of her hand. _Okay, Courtney. It's your turn to be the strong one._ A two-sentence pep talk meant to give Courtney the strength to hold herself together and not crumble into pieces with him, yet she felt her resolve crack the moment she leaned over to place a hand on his shoulder, her gut twisting as the new angle allowed her to see his injured hand. Wet, open wounds covered his knuckles with the surrounding skin frayed and crusted in dried blood.

"Your hand," Courtney whispered, her knees buckling at the sight. She should have been there to stop him. She knew he wasn't in a good state of mind when they entered the office, that he had bottled everything up that he was just a hair-trigger away from breaking. She should have stuck to his side instead of ducking for cover behind Ian's desk. "Shayne?" She whispered, hoping for a response. Shayne just stared at her, too shell shocked to form a response. Broken. It was a term Courtney never thought to associate with her co-worker and best friend. Time and time again, she watched him keep his cool under pressure, only acting on his anxieties when it made for an entertaining bit.

Even though she knew he was only human, a part of her had always considered him to be unbreakable. At least, he always seemed to be in control of himself and his emotions, unlike her who still struggled to keep her anxious mannerism at bay whilst on camera. Courtney squeezed Shayne's shoulder once more, but he just looked away, burying his head in his knees once again. A pang of regret pierced her stomach. _How could I be so selfish?_ Courtney slid down next to him, draping an arm over his shoulders. A heavy sob wracked Shayne's body as he broke all over again.

"Ian's still confident that Smosh can pull through." Courtney took Shayne's uninjured hand into her lap, lacing her fingers with his. Her heart ached. What was she supposed to do? Supposed to say? It sounded awful, but comforting others wasn't exactly her forte, especially not with the chaos spinning through her skull. "We just need to figure out where Smosh stands as a company or something like that..." Courtney trailed off, letting silence overtake the alley. Should she continue rambling or was silence better?

"You shouldn't be here," Shayne finally spoke up, his voice hoarse from crying. Courtney froze, a sour taste filling her mouth as she flashed back to what he said in the elevator. Her heart sank. How could she be so stupid? She had raced down to find him the second that Ian finished up the meeting. She didn't even stop to think about whether or not asking him about breakfast was a good idea. She just focused on what he had said about coping through taking care of others, about wanting to take care of her, yet she never stopped to consider the potential downfall of him not being able to. She meant to take his mind off the Defy shutdown, yet she just made things worse. _Typical._

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to..." Courtney tried to let go of Shayne's hand, but he just tightened his grip and pulled Courtney closer to him. She felt him relax underneath her arm as he sat up and took a deep breath in, wiping the tears from his eyes. A wave of relief poured over Courtney, driving the tension out of her muscles and dampening her electrified nerves. Maybe her plan was working after all. Sure, he still refused to look at her, but he didn't want her to leave. That was a start, right? Courtney took a deep breath in. "It was like my legs shut down." She fumbled with Shayne's fingers. "Ian said that we were... And then you just bolted out that door. I just froze. No matter what I did, my legs just wouldn't move." A sad smile pulled on Courtney's lips as tears started trickling down her cheeks. "Who knew that being paralyzed with fear wasn't just a cliche?" Courtney softly snorted at herself, bringing their entwined hands up to wipe the tears from her face.

"You're here now, aren't you?" Shayne glanced at Courtney before refocusing his stare on the concrete wall opposite them. Tears streamed down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. This wasn't part of the plan. Sure, it felt good, the pressure in her head dissipating as she uncorked her own bottled up emotions and let them cascade down her cheeks. Still, a film of guilt clung to the bottle, coagulating into a thick mucus that soured her stomach. What was she doing falling apart and taking comfort in Shayne? _Being selfish, that's what_ , Courtney chastised herself. Swallowing her tears, Courtney sucked in a loud breath of air and wiped away the last remnants of her tears. She had to be stronger than this. She had to be stronger for Shayne.

"I should have been here sooner," Courtney confessed, fixating on Shayne's bloody knuckles. If her hands weren't already occupied, she would have reached out and touched it, so instead, she just used their entangled hands to gesture to it. _I could have stopped you._

"It's nothing I can't handle myself. Really, it doesn't even hurt," Shayne persisted, flexing his injured hand out in front of him. Courtney watched the raw and exposed flesh twist, cracking the barely formed scab and sending fresh blood gurgling to the surface. Shayne quickly tucked his hand away, hissing as his knuckles brushed up against his jeans. "You should go back to the office. I'm sure they're wondering where you went."

"Not without you," Courtney insisted. Even if she wanted to, returning without Shayne would only result in backlash. Ian would probably call her out, and then the squad would just see her as a fake. True friends didn't leave friends behind, and all that jazz. "Plus I don't really feel like going back just yet. Everything feels wrong."

"Well, everything is wrong." His words cut deep, flaying her false hope into paper-thin layers that folded at the touch. She wanted to believe Ian, wanted so desperately to believe that Smosh wasn't over. She let her desperation cloud reality and gave in, her naivety filling her with false hope. Courtney took a deep breath in.

"That's not... I just..." Courtney groaned, gritting her teeth as her words failed her. "It's overwhelming. Everyone's dread and sadness weighing down the room. It's hard to breathe." Shayne squeezed her hand. "Plus, Ian will freak if he sees your hand like that."

"I don't deserve you. Your kindness," Shayne whispered just loud enough for Courtney to hear. "I'm not worth it." Courtney's heart sank upon witnessing Shayne's insecurities surface, his self-esteem crumbling to dust for the world to see. It wasn't the first time she had seen him like this. Over their years of working together and their time spent outside of work, she knew Shayne's self-depreciative habits, witnessing them time and time again despite his best efforts to hide them. Usually, it was just a whispered muttering over a tricky script or a frustrated self-mocking after a bad filming session. The last time she saw him unravel into a true meltdown had been years ago after he broke up with his long term girlfriend of the time. It had shattered her soul back then, and it still did now. Worst of all was that, despite experiencing this first hand, she still wasn't sure how to handle it, how to shake Shayne out of his downward spirals. _What if I can't?_ Courtney shook her head. She signed up for this when she became Shayne's friend, and she wasn't about to let him down.

"Don't say that," Courtney all but whimpered, a sob crawling its way into the back of her throat as tears threatened to spill. "You are worth it, Shayne." Telling him this and expecting it to help was a futile effort akin to advising a cow to be a cat and expecting it to work. At best, it would fall on deaf ears, and at worst, it would be construed into a lie to fit his self-degrading narrative. Courtney took a deep breath in and stared up into the sun, hoping the right words to say would magically pop into her brain. She thought back to his meltdown, recalling how Damien had told Shayne a story about a time Shayne had helped him. _Maybe that will work._ "Do you remember when Wahlid left me?" Shayne nodded without looking at her. "My world shattered." Courtney pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I saw the break-up a mile away, and I still shattered." Her breath hitched at the back of her throat.

"You don't have to-"

"Let me finish." Courtney squeezed Shayne's hand. "I didn't tell you then, but I nearly quit Smosh. I wasn't thinking straight. That day I came into work, the day after the break-up, I was planning on giving Ian my resignation letter. But then there you were." Courtney shook her head as if to shake the tears away. A soft smile lit her face. "You read me like a book." Courtney dropped her gaze to their entwined hands, watching as she grazed her thumb over his knuckles. "You didn't know it then, but you stopped me from ruining my life," Courtney admitted. "So don't go telling me you're not worth it." Red heat crept up Courtney's cheeks as her voice softened a meek whisper. "You are to me."

"You were going to quit?" Shayne finally looked up, his cheeks stained with dried tears that complimented his red and puffy eyes. Courtney simply nodded. "I didn't..." His voice faded into the chaos of the Los Angeles streets, the sounds of car horns and electric scooters clashing together with the occasional shouting match sprinkled in. It was the closest to silent that the city had to offer, a consistent room tone that most learned to ignore. Courtney couldn't though. Not then, at least. The whipping of cars speeding through lights pierced her ears, carving away at her stability. She could feel the tears threatening to return, feel her own meltdown coming, clawing its way up her throat to take center stage.

"C'mon." Courtney snapped herself out of it, pulling away from Shayne and standing up. If she stayed there, she knew she would breakdown; she needed, no, they needed to get out of there and find a distraction, anything to distance themselves from the despair looming over them. She reached out her hand for him to take. "We can grab some bandages at the CVS down the street. There's a diner I've been meaning to try just a block from there." Shayne didn't move, his eyes fixed on her, a blank expression masking his face. "If you still want to, that is? It was stupid to assume." Courtney pressed her lips together. "We can just stay here though. If that's what you want," Courtney stammered, making to pull her hand into her chest.

"Aren't you gonna help me up?"

-.-.-.-.-

Plates clattered together as waitresses and waiters bussed table after table, struggling to keep up with the constant stream of patrons flowing in and out of the overpacked diner. Large, floor to ceiling windows covered an outfacing wall, while pictures and paintings of old trains and cars covered the white painted interior. Patrons squished into the red leather booths that lined the walls and center island, with a lucky few managing to secure one of the few matching stools at the red-topped bar that surrounded a small open kitchen. Only a single booth near the bathroom remained open when Shayne and Courtney finally arrived.

"So either stare at the bussing station or stare at the restroom. Great," Courtney observed, walking her fingers across the black-topped table. The table backed up against a dirty white wall, with an old-timey train photograph mounted above it. Car themed salt and pepper shakers bookended a rusted napkin dispenser that held four well-used menus up against the wall. Although four paper table setting adorned the table, there was no silverware in sight.

"Does it even matter?" Shayne slid into the booth facing the restroom. Courtney sighed.

"Half-eaten food or imagining people pissing," Courtney mused, her cheeks flushing red upon seeing Shayne's puzzled look. Admittedly, it had sounded better in her head. Out loud, though? He was right. It didn't matter. They had bigger issues at hand, dialing in on something so tiny was silly. Still, the choice pestered her, a force of habit from years of conditioning. Growing up, her family always avoided sitting near the bussing area and the restroom. Though she would later find out it was to avoid the heavy foot traffic disturbing whatever special occasion they were there for, Courtney had assumed it was because looking at dirty dishes or a bathroom while eating was gross. This assumption was further solidified during a date with Wahlid where she had found herself staring at a puke-covered plate for nearly the entire dinner. Courtney gagged. Nope. Sitting across from the bussing station was not an option.

"Hmm?" Shayne spoke up, bringing Courtney back to reality.

"Nevermind." Courtney shook her head, a weak smile wobbling on her lips. She couldn't sit at the booth facing the bussing area, but sharing the same booth just seemed far too intimate for comfort. Sure, she could ask Shayne to switch booths, but how weird would that be? Would she come off as high-maintenance? Courtney bit her lip. Why did her preference take priority over his? But what would he think if she broke social norms and sat next to him? As if reading her mind, Shayne shifted over in the booth as if to invite her to sit. Courtney mouthed a silent 'thank you', tossing the CVS bag that she had been holding onto the opposite seat and squishing into the booth next to Shayne. Shayne quirked an eyebrow at her. "Chewed up food is gross."

"Whatever you say." Shayne pulled a smile and grabbed two menus from the wall, handing one to Courtney. Courtney spread the menu open, sneaking glances at Shayne's injured hands as she read. A blood spotted, gauze bandage covered his hand, haphazardly held together with clear medical tape. Anyone with even the slightest first-aid training would cringe at the sight, but it was the best Courtney could do since Shayne refused to go to urgent care.

"Does it hurt?" Courtney reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers over the frayed gauze edges. Shayne shrugged.

"I didn't actually feel it at first. Too much adrenaline going. I guess I just blocked it out. Blocked everything out really." Shayne raised his bandaged hand and flexed his fingers, cueing Courtney to draw her hand back into her lap. "I just kinda felt my body moving; and then, boom, I was in that alley, and my hand was all bloody." Shayne tucked his hand under the table, eyes retreating to look at the table. "I'm still waiting to wake up and find out this is just some bad nightmare." Silence washed over the table. As much as Courtney ached for Shayne to be right, for this to be some bizarre shared dream and for her to still be tucked into bed with Jango, reality persisted. They were undeniably awake and living through what could very well turn out to be the worst day of their lives. "How's your head?"

"Still throbbing, but not as bad." Courtney breathed out through her nose. "It'll be better once I can take something for it." Shayne just nodded. Another awkward silence took over, leaving Courtney to bury her nose in the menu, while Shayne ignored his in favor of staring off at the photograph hanging above them. 

"Hey y'all, my name's Charlotte but you can call me Charlie. I'mma be waiting on you today here at The Pit Stop Diner." Courtney nearly jumped out of her seat upon hearing the thick southern drawl. It sounded more like a character bit than an actual accent, but Courtney didn't dare ask her about it. Courtney turned to look at its source - a lanky blonde wearing a too-tight uniform and a fake smile.

"Sorry, I didn't see you approach." Courtney willed a smile to her face only to let it fall upon seeing Charlie gawking at Shayne. A spark shot through her chest, briefly strangling her throat before dissipating into confusion. A familiar feeling that clung to the tip of her tongue. Courtney pressed her lips together and shoved it away for later. Without thinking, Courtney placed a hand on Shayne's shoulder. Shayne initially covered her hand with his, but quickly removed it upon finally noticing Charlie.

"Oh, it's all good, honey. So, are you two lovebirds ready to order or should I give y'all a good minute?" Charlie glared at Courtney as she placed two sets of silverware on the table.

"Oh, we're not." Courtney waved her hand in front of her for emphasis.

"We're just co-workers," Shayne followed up, and Charlie's fake smile bounced back. Courtney swallowed, a weight settling in her stomach. She told herself it was just the day's emotions fighting to resurface, but that was a lie. It was that unidentifiable spark returning. Unidentifiable? _You know what this is, Courtney_ , she told herself but ultimately dismissed the thought. It was easier that way.

"My bad, it's just usually when people share the same booth, they're, well, you know," Charlie rambled on. "So y'all ready to order, or do ya need a minute?"

"I'll take a coffee, and the chocolate chip pancakes."

"Any sides? It comes with either hash browns or fresh fruit."

"Hash browns will be fine," Courtney answered.

"You sure about that darling? Would hate to see you lose that cute little figure of yours. I'd get the fruit if I were you."

"Isn't your job to take orders not give them?" Courtney spat back. Just their luck. Sat at the worst table and waited on by the worst waitress. When she put it like that, though, it did make sense. The worst things did tend to gravitate together.

"Now, now, just trying to help, but if that's what ya want, then hash browns it is. Just don't say I didn't warn ya," Charlie mockingly whispered, jokingly hiding her mouth with her hand. Courtney swore she saw Charlie giggle as she turned her attention to Shayne and smirked. "And you for you, hun?"

"Other than a different waitress?" Charlie's smile wavered but held strong.

"Afraid, I'm all you got, cutie," Charlie winked. Courtney grabbed Shayne's hand under the table as she fought the urge to punch Charlie's smug face.

"How unfortunate for us," Shayne gritted through his teeth, glaring at Charlie as if he thought hard enough she would combust into flames, although Charlie seemed to enjoy the attention. "Coffee. And make it strong."

"Alrighty then, I'll get your food to you in a jiffy. Just you see. I'll be right around the corner if you need me."

"Don't worry. We won't," Shayne retorted. Charlie maintained her fake smile as she grabbed their menus and walked off.

"The nerve on that woman!" Courtney released Shayne's hand in order to drag her fingers through her hair. "Who does she think I am? Shaming me for ordering hash browns and then flirting with you!" Wait, what? Why did she care about that? Courtney blushed. She had to think fast before she came across as jealous or something. "And worst, just assuming we're a couple," Courtney's face contorted with disgust at the thought of them dating. Truthfully, though, she was more disgusted with herself upon realizing that the unidentifiable spark that she felt earlier was jealousy.

Courtney had never considered herself the jealous type, and now, to be feeling jealousy over a waitress flirting with a guy she wasn't even dating let alone had feelings for, it was absurd. _It's the stress talking._ Courtney convinced herself, playing into her naivety to quell her discomfort.

"Courtney. Half the internet thinks we're a couple." He took the bait. Relief briefly pooled through Courtney only for the familiar tendrils of despair to take its place. The fans. Smosh shutting down would devastate them. She had an e-mail folder overflowing with fanmail. Though some were crude attempts to hit on her, most were just different takes on how much Smosh meant to them. It blew her mind to think that their silly sketch comedy and squad vlogs had such a strong impact on so many. She never imagined, not in a million years, that she could touch so many lives. But what now? What would happen to those fans that relied on them? She quickly shook the thought off, deciding to stay present rather than dwell in the pain. It wasn't over yet.

"Yeah, but like eww." Courtney jokingly pretended to vomit. "No offense. You're cute and all, but you're my co-worker." Courtney placed a hand on his shoulder with a bright smile that touched her eyes. Butterflies kissed her stomach upon seeing Shayne smile back - an honest smile that wrinkled his eyes. A familiar warmth spread between them as they fell back into their usual banter.

"Did you just call me cute?" Shayne raised an eyebrow. Courtney blushed. Sure, she had said it for the bit, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. There was no denying that Shayne was cute. Anyone with eyes knew that. Hell, she would even go as far as to call him handsome, though only behind closed doors and within the confines of her mind. Calling him cute, though? She could do that. Cute carried a sense of innocence, an innocuous compliment often tossed between friends and siblings. Handsome inferred something far more intimate, a heavy connotation that Courtney didn't dare risk to lift. This conversation needed to stay light, to keep its bright tone and act as a distraction, a tool to keep reality away. "Oh, what's that? I can hear the fans cheering now. Shourtney! Shourtney!" Shayne threw his head back in infectious laughter that had Courtney quickly joining in.

"Shut up! I'm serious. Stop!" Courtney stuttered through laughter as she playfully smacked his shoulder. Shayne was right. The fans would eat this up in a second, analyzing every touch, reading into their not-so-subtle body language, looking for anything to prove a relationship. She pretended not to see it - the connection between Shayne and her that a certain subset of fans raved about in the comments. At most, she allowed herself to acknowledge it as a platonic intimacy if only to keep herself in check. More often though, she swallowed the doubt and ignored them, convincing herself that it was a delusional belief, a product of fans seeing something simply because they wanted it to be true. Deep down, though, she saw it. She understood where they were coming from, but she would never admit it. "Seriously, I love our fans. I really, really I do, but sometimes I think they're delusional."

"You're just realizing this now," Shayne joked, prompting another playful punch from Courtney. "What? Have you seen their spin the bottle suggestions? Make a PB&J with only your feet? No sane person wants to see that. Let alone do it." Courtney cringed at the memory. Spin the Bottle videos were some of her least favorite videos to shoot, not because they weren't fun but because, no matter what, bare feet were somehow always involved. This was especially true now that they were taking fan suggestions. Thankfully, the past few videos had been pretty tame for her, though even bearing witness to some of the dares had been traumatizing enough. She still gagged any time she thought back to their the first spin the bottle video when Noah and she were forced to swap gum.

"Are you calling me crazy?" Courtney cocked her head. 

"Technically, I was the one who did it," Shayne said, lifting a finger in a know-it-all manner. "But I'm not saying no." He grinned.

"Why are you so mean?" Courtney playfully whined, pushing at Shayne's shoulder. She felt herself leaning into him longer than she needed to, relishing in the warmth radiating off his bicep, through her arms and into her heart. It filled her with a confident reassurance, a repetitive whisper: Together. They would get through this together.

"Do you remember the banana?" Shayne tried to stifle a laugh, unintentionally pulling away from Courtney as he all but doubled over in silent laughter.

"Duh, we filmed that, like what, last week?" Courtney rolled her eyes.

"I know, I know." Shayne's entire form quaked with suppressed laughter. "But do you remember?" Courtney ran her fingers through her hair. How could she forget? She had nearly crawled into his lap at one point. And then that happened. Courtney blushed as the image of Shayne faking an orgasm flashed through her mind. He had pushed the limits on that one, to the point where even now, just imagining it, she could still feel the awkward tension that had suffocated the room. It was almost like he enjoyed making them squirm - making her squirm - even at the expense of the video getting demonetized. _If it ever gets uploaded to Youtube._

"You were so god damn stupid." Courtney leaned in, grabbing Shayne's bicep with both hands as she brought her lips to his ear. "Big strong boy running away from a banana." She pulled back, her head bowing as she leaned her forehead on his shoulder and broke into a fit of giggles. "For sanity's sake, please say that was just an act."

"Like you were any better, using me as a shield." Shayne nudged her, a true smile brightening his face. Courtney didn't want this to end. The laughter, his warmth. Reality faded away. She closed her eyes, letting herself bask in the moment.

"Ya sure y'all're not dating," Charlie interrupted, placing Courtney's pancakes and hash browns on the table followed by two mugs of coffee. Courtney reluctantly sat up, a chill washing over her as reality took hold along with the despair and dread that she had pushed off to the side. Courtney cracked a fake smile as she turned to Charlie. Charlie briefly frowned at her before returning Courtney's fake smile with her own. "Mmm, 'cause the way you two look at each other is just darling."

"We're just really good friends," Courtney reassured Charlie

And herself.


	4. Shayne

'Get to the office. Now.' Shayne read and reread Courtney's text, the words searing into his eyes. Exhaustion frayed his thoughts, the stress of a long day's work filming for 'The Goldbergs' taking its toll on both his mind and body. He collapsed backwards, thankfully landing on his couch. 'Get to the office. Now.' It was just five words, yet he could feel the panic radiating from his phone. He stared at where his thumb now hovered over the reply button. Did he even have time to respond? Should he just take the cue and hit the road? Before he could even decide, let alone muster up the courage to reply, another text came in - this time from Ian. 'Check your email. ASAP.' His heart flung into his throat as he quickly pulled up his email. There it was. A single email from Defy Media Corporate, time-stamped 10:35 AM. His finger shook as he opened the email.

Fired. Effective immediately. Static filled his ears as the world went dark.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Shayne stood outside Defy Media, a six-pack of beer in one hand and his phone on the other. He wasn't sure how he got there, completely blocking out the entire time between reading that email and arriving. Fired. Effective immediately. This would be the last time he stood there. The last time he walked through those doors. Maybe the last time he would see some of the crew. This was it. This was goodbye. How could just three simple words have so much power?

"Fired. Effective immediately." The words tumbled off his lips, his voice sounding foreign to his ears. Shayne closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. He could feel himself disconnecting from his body. A bizarre feeling. A blistering numbness that threatened to push him out and take over. The same feeling that overtook him back at his apartment. Shayne dug his fingernails into his palm, willing the pain to keep him awake and present. He felt nothing. Static filtered through his ears.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Shayne took a swig from a bottle of beer as watched the chaos around him from the comfort of one of the plushier armchairs in the office. Various crewmembers dashed in and out of the office as they looted the room. He could hear items breaking in the background followed by loud screaming and stomping. Shayne stood up, the sudden movement warping the room around him. Was he drunk? Shayne looked at the half-full beer in his hand before eyeing the table next to him, noting the two empty beer bottles. He didn't remember drinking them, but he felt them. Shayne's vision blurred as he searched the room for nothing in particular. He shrugged and stumbled into the hallway.

"Shayne?" A voice called out, echoing off the hallways. He turned to see a familiar silhouette standing in the hallway. A faint window of light danced across his eyes. He stepped forward, desperately needing to close the space between them. He didn't move. Instead, he watched the walls stretch around him as the silhouette disappeared into the distance. Shadows dragged the corners of his vision as a familiar white noise diffused through the air. Leaving nothing but a constant whisper ringing through his ears. The same three words on repeat. Fired. Effective immediately. The words hollowed him, echoing together in a distorted static.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A fluorescent light flickered off the black tile walls, its electric hum stirring Shayne awake. His head hurt. It was the first thing he noticed beyond the incessant buzz echoing off the wall. Next was the overbearing light burning his irises through his eyelids. Shayne rubbed his thumbs into his eyes, trying to release the pressure pressing against his skull. Opening his eyes would not be fun, but it had to be done. Through his blurred vision, he could make out the outline of something human, a mess of colors layered over one another that stood out against the black background.

"You're awake." Shayne identified the voice as the same one he had heard in the hallway. Despite its familiarity, putting a name to the voice still proved a challenge. He wanted to say it was Courtney, but there was a sultry tone to the voice that had him doubting. Sure, they play flirted for videos, and, admittedly, sometimes that leaked into real life, but this was beyond playful. Their relationship wasn't that intimate.

"Was I sleeping?" Shayne choked out, his throat strangely dry. How long was he out? Shayne cleared his throat as the figure approached, eyes wide and jaw dropped as his vision cleared and the blurred mess of shapes melted away to reveal Courtney leaning over him. Though something about her made Shayne do a double-take. The woman standing over him looked like Courtney, there was no doubting that, but something about her was off. He could chalk the sultry tone he heard to his brain malfunctioning, but it was something more than just that. Her clothes maybe? Shayne had seen her in everything from bizarre superhero cosplay to her usual ripped shirt and jeans, but her current attire - a ripped jean skirt short enough to see the faux pockets and a see-through crop top - threw him off. The Courtney he knew didn't wear skirts, not around the office at least, not unless they were doing a shoot. Had the shutdown broke her?

"Unsure?" She shrugged. "I found you just wandering the halls. You seemed awake, just unresponsive, so I brought you to the bathroom. You've kinda just been staring off at nothing for the last 30 minutes or so." Courtney slid down next to sit next to him. Shayne nodded, her words filtering through one ear and out the other as he found himself staring at Courtney, trying to gauge her stability. Besides the bizarre clothing choice, nothing seemed out of place.

"30 minutes?" Shayne's voice wavered. Courtney nodded. Shayne dropped his head back against the wall. It felt like longer. "You're sure?" Shayne ran through his day, trying to piece together a working timeline. Woke up, check. Goldbergs set, check. Courtney's text, check. The email... Fired. Effective immediately. His vision pulsed, static building in his ears. There they were, those three words. Once again, he watched the world pull away from him, walls stretching to surreal lengths as the ceiling threatened to float away. Shayne forced himself to focus on the person masquerading around as Courtney. She threw him a genuine smile, and the world settled down. Fake or not, she still had that magic.

"Give or take five minutes." Courtney double-checked her phone. "And don't worry, I locked the door. I didn't think you'd want anyone walking in on you when you seemed so vulnerable." Shayne sighed. Could she tell how off he was? How disconnected he felt from the world around him? "Is everything alright?"

"Yes. No. I don't know?" Shayne furrowed his brow. Did he tell her about his memory lapses? About the blackouts? He didn't think she would overreact. If he was to assume this was the true Courtney, that is. Shayne sucked on his top teeth before taking a deep breath in. No. He couldn't worry her like that. "Never mind, I'm probably just a bit tipsy or something."

"Well," Courtney leaned over, practically sticking her nose in his mouth. It was uncomfortably close, yet for some reason, Shayne didn't want her to pull away. He even found himself fighting the urge to grab her hips and pull her into him. "You don't smell of alcohol, so I think we can rule out being blackout drunk."

"I feel drunk," Shayne scoffed.

"Hmm."' Courtney put her forearm to his head. "You're hot, but not fever hot." Shayne blushed, realizing just how close Courtney was to straddling his lap. He swallowed. While there was no denying the recently developing tension between them, their relationship was nowhere near at the point where he would consider this normal. And what about their contract? Shayne snorted. It was gone. With Defy dissolving, their contract would cease to exist. Was that it? Was that the only thing holding her back? If so, shouldn't this come up sooner? Neither of them was the type to jump into sex, yet here she was practically throwing herself at him. She had to be drunk or something. "At least I don't think," Courtney put a finger to her lip as she scooted closer to Shayne, pushing his legs down in order to crawl onto his lap and fully straddle his hips. Shayne froze in shock. She was drunk. She had to be. No way would a sober Courtney proposition him like this, but she didn't smell like alcohol.

Maybe she was a fraud. Some actress hired to fuck with him. Shayne thought back to that day at the diner. That Charlie chick had been a bit off. It would make sense, what with Courtney's uncharacteristic behavior. Or maybe a parallel universe? Though Shayne found Courtney coming on to him far more believable than being transported to an entirely different universe. Whatever it was, he knew one thing. He was going crazy. Courtney pressed her lips to his forehead. "Nope, definitely don't have a fever."

"Uhm, Courtney?" Shayne squeaked, his hands awkwardly hovering over her waist.

"Hmm?" Courtney raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you doing?" His voice cracked as she shifted her weight back, unintentionally grinding down on him.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Don't you want to have some fun?" She pouted as she wiggled on of him. Shayne grabbed her hips and stopped her. He thought about pushing her off completely, but he would be lying if he said he didn't dream about this. If she wanted this, like truly wanted this and wasn't drunk, then who was he to stop her? He just needed to make sure she was thinking straight before she felt him and ran away scared. Would she though? She had to know the effect her actions would have on him, on any man really. Didn't she? A pang of guilt stung his stomach. What if this was a stress response?

"Fun? At a time like this? And in the office bathroom of all places? What if we get caught?" Courtney giggled at him. Shayne blinked at her. Okay, this had to be some strange reaction to the stress of everything. No way would she just be so nonchalant about everything. Then again, he did remember that in one video, the one where the squad played the newlywed game, Courtney had admitted to hooking up in some pretty public places, though whether she meant just kissing or something more was up for grabs.

"If you're going to be this way, fine, but this wouldn't be the weirdest place we've had sex." Shayne froze, a clammy sweat starting to bead on his forehead. Did she just say that? This had to be the stress playing with his ears, right? "You literally fingered me on set last week or did you somehow forget that too?" Shayne felt dizzy, his heartbeat stumbling at her words. Sex? Fingering on set? This being a parallel universe was sounding more realistic by the second. Even on the rare occasions he dreamt of Courtney, it always stayed tame, his fantasies never venturing far from vanilla.

"Okay, I know I'm losing my mind here, but did you just say we've had sex? Because I think I'd definitely remember that." Shayne paused, pretending to think. "Yep. I'd definitely remember that." Shayne was at a loss. Should he just flat tell her that he thought he was in a parallel universe? What would she think of him then? Shayne sucked air in and swallowed. He didn't even want to consider his previous thought that Charlie had started stalking him from the diner. God, he would much rather be in a parallel universe than that.

"Are you saying I'm bad in bed? So bad, it's forgettable?" Courtney quirked an eyebrow with annoyance. Too convincing. If this was an act, Courtney deserved an Oscar.

"No. I mean, I don't know." Shayne groaned. "How could I? We've literally never fucked before. We've never even dated, for christ's sake, and if you don't drop this bit, I swear to God, Courtney. I can't hold it down forever, and then things will legit get awkward." Shayne watched Courtney's face, hoping to spot some sort of tell. Something to hold onto, to tell him this was just some absurd bit she was putting on. Her face ran through several emotions ranging from shock to sadness, but all were genuine, and none gave Shayne the impression that she was acting.

The Courtney that he was talking to was in some sort of sexual relationship with him, or a version of him. At least, that was what it seemed like. For split second, Shayne wondered if he had swapped with that Other Shayne and if his Courtney was currently being propositioned. If he ever returned, would his Courtney hate him for his parallel's actions? Shayne shook the thought off, needing to keep himself focused on his current predicament. Questions of 'what if' could wait.

"You're starting to freak me out, Shayne," Courtney's voice softened as she slipped off his lap and took a seat next to him. Shayne sighed with relief. His sheer terror mixed with confusion had been enough to hold off an erection for the moment, but he wasn't confident that he could keep it down if she continued with her butt wiggles.

"Me? Freaking you out? Really, Courtney? You're the one suddenly crawling into my lap." A knock on the door stopped Courtney from responding.

"Hey, are you two lovebirds done in there?" Olivia's voice called through the door. "Cause Sunny's ready to shoot a new squad vlog. We're just waiting on you two." Shayne's eyes widened. Did she just say Sunny? Well, this all but confirmed his parallel universe theory. Defy fired Sunny six months ago. If Sunny was here, what about Joe? The thought of working the two producers sent excitement fluttering through his veins. He lucked out. Of all universes to be transplanted into, this one was looking too good to be true.

"Sunny? As in Sunny Peabody?" Shayne double-checked. "Courtney, where are we?"

"We're at the Smosh office." Courtney raised an eyebrow, clearly weirded out by him.

"In the Defy building?"

"Defy? Like Defy Media? Thank God no. Could you imagine what would've happened if Ian had sold Smosh to them? And what with them just announcing their shut down and all?" There it was. That was the last bit of proof he needed. He was in a parallel universe, and strangely enough, he didn't know if he wanted to leave. Sure, jumping into what seemed to be a very steamy relationship with Courtney seemed a tad daunting; after all, he would've preferred some time to get to know her on a more intimate level before jumping straight to sex. He could get used to it, though playing the part of her long-time boyfriend might prove tricky at times. Especially if he didn't warm up to her promptly. He could only avoid her advances so many times before this universe's Courtney would suss him out or, worse, take offense.

"Yeah, actually. I can, funnily enough," Shayne said, scratching his head. Courtney shot him a puzzled look.

"You know, rumor has it, that they were supposed to have sixty days, but as of today, everyone under Defy media was Fired, effective immediately." Her words cut through him like a hot knife through butter. Those three words. Again. Haunting him. The world shook, yet only he could feel it. Shayne swallowed, watching his vision cloud over as everything went dark.  
  
  
  
  


A fluorescent light flickered off the white tile walls, its electric hum stirring Shayne awake. The familiarity stung his tongue as deja vu washed over him. Or maybe it had been just a dream? A weirdly psychic dream. Was it psychic though if what he dreamt of was both completely the same and different simultaneously? Ignoring the light beating down on his closed eyes, Shayne opened them to find the same blurred figure as before standing across from him.

"You're awake." This time Shayne immediately identified the voice as belonging to Courtney. There was no subtle tone to throw him off. It was pure, familiar Courtney. At least, he hoped so. What if he was just in another parallel universe? Shayne shook the thought from his head, unintentionally sending the room spinning around him. He couldn't think like that. A world jumping between parallel worlds would be hell. Never knowing where he was or how his relationships had changed sounded terrifying. The figure he assumed to be Courtney approached.

"We've done this before," Shayne muttered without thinking as his vision cleared to reveal a worried Courtney leaning over him. The deja vu pulsed through his stomach, bringing a sour nausea that puckered his mouth.

"Uhm, I think I'd remember finding you passed out in the bathroom Shayne..." Courtney cocked her head in confusion. Well, that didn't track.

"Passed out? Didn't you find me wandering the halls?" The words fell from his tongue faster than he could think. Thankfully, of all the things he could have mindlessly said, that was on the tamer side. He didn't want to send Courtney into a panic attack with his parallel universe theory or give her any reason to send him to the psych ward. Not that he thought she actually would do that, but at this point, he was even considering voluntarily admitting himself. What sane person believed they visited a parallel universe?

"No. Why do you ask? Is that the last thing you remember?" Courtney slid down next to him. The urge to pull her into his lap surged through his veins. Shayne chalked it up to a left over reaction from their previous non-encounter, yet holding himself back proved far more difficult than he ever imagined. Having Courtney so close had been nothing short of amazing. The way their bodies locked together - the overwhelming warmth and pride of sliding the last puzzle piece into place. A red flush crept up his cheeks just thinking about it. _Stop it, Shayne,_ he chastised himself, _she's your best friend. You shouldn't be thinking of her that way. Not again._ Shayne looked away to the bathroom door. "Don't worry, I locked the door. I didn't think you'd want anyone walking in on you when you seemed so vulnerable." His stomach soured with guilt upon hearing the concern lacing her voice. Shayne shoved his reawakened feelings aside, forcing himself to stay present.

"How long have I been here?"

"It's been roughly one hour since I found you. Give or take five minutes." Courtney double-checked her phone. An hour. Did that mean he had been in the parallel universe for an hour? Thirty minutes zoned out and thirty minutes awake and aware? Or did time work differently? What if ten minutes in that universe was one hour in this one? His head spun; stomach acid spiked his mouth. Shayne slammed his hand over his mouth as he dry-heaved. His body pulsed with nausea. "Is everything alright?"

Shayne snuck a peek at Courtney and swallowed. He could hear it, all her 'what ifs', her ruminating thoughts rampaging through her mind, all of it. Even if she wasn't vocalizing them, her face spoke for her - a pained picture reminiscent of the other day when she found him crumpled up in the alley. Pained. Worried. Upset. Anxiety. All for him. All because of him. He needed to fix this, needed to tell her something to ease her mind before the stress consumed them both. Shayne considered offering her a white lie, fearing telling her the truth would taint how she saw him. He could just blame his condition on the email and leave it at that. It would be believable enough, and he could just stuff this incident away to dwell on at a more appropriate time. Hiding came easy to him, after all.

"Yes. No. I don't know?" His eyes met Courtney's without his consent, a subconscious act, a hidden desire to be caught in the lie. His fear pushed him to continue. "I read that email, and I could've sworn I was back home thirty minutes ago, but then again, I couldn't tell you how I even got here. It's like I read that email and poof I was standing outside with a six-pack of beer, and now poof I'm here. Unsettling, but I'll live." Shayne bit his lip. He could finish here and just be done with it. It was a version of the truth, just not the part that was eating him alive. A lie of omission. It didn't feel good, but he could live with himself.

"Y-y-you're losing time?" Shayne's conviction fell away as he watched as Courtney's eyes widened with fear, her worry amplifying to new levels. This was supposed to fix things, not make it worse. The soured guilt lingering in his stomach woke, stretching its long, lanky limbs and planting its feet in his stomach as it unsheathed its weapon to wield a long, rusted blade against its foe: Shayne's fear. The fear drew its weapon, the action sending pain rippling through Shayne's body. The two swordsmen clashed, metal clanking against metal in a chaotic dance of blades that left battleground of casualties in its wake. His guilt emerged the victor, leaving Shayne's mental constitution torn to shreds.

"Yes, but." Shayne swallowed. "That's not what's bothering me. I mean, it was the first time, but..." Shayne breathed in through his nose and rolled his shoulders back before looking Courtney straight in the eye. "Have you ever experienced deja vu?" Shayne trembled as he spoke though he still maintained eye contact with her. Courtney nodded 'yes', placing a hand on his shoulder. Shayne closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. "It's like walking through a memory that doesn't exist, right? You feel the memory, but you can't remember it. Not really. Not in terms of words or images." Courtney hesitantly nodded. "What I'm feeling... I remember it. Words. Images. This memory. It exists. I've lived this before. I know I lived this before." Shayne took a deep breath in. "I remember waking up here. I remember you sitting down next to me. Us talking. Everything was exactly the same yet not. Things were different. Our situation was different. Like I was in a parallel world or something. " Shayne shook his head with a scoff. "I know I sound crazy..." Courtney's hand trailed down his arm to grab his hand.

"When I was a kid, I would have these incredibly vivid dreams," Courtney blurted out. "I wouldn't know I was dreaming until I woke up, and even then sometimes I'd dream about waking up and carrying out my morning routine only to actually wake up for real... The sense of deja vu would be overwhelming."

"Maybe." Shayne shook his head and sighed, pulling his hand away from hers and into his lap. Maybe she was right. A dream would make way more sense than his parallel universe theory, but at the same time, calling it a dream didn't sit right. How could he predict that he would wake up in this exact bathroom to Courtney saying the exact same things? He would have to be psychic or something. This wasn't like dreaming of a routine, something well established ahead of time like with Courtney's dreams. "But you dreamt about routines. This. How could I dream something than hadn't happened yet? Why would I dream about waking up in this bathroom?"

"Well, you did pass out in here, maybe you carried that into your dream?" Courtney raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I woke up. The walls were a different color, but you were here. You were wearing something different, but it was you. A version of you..." Shayne pressed his lips together. "Anyway. We were at the Smosh office, but it wasn't in this building. Wherever I was, Ian never sold Smosh to Defy, and Sunny still worked for Smosh. I didn't get time to ask about Joe..." Shayne smiled though it didn't reach his eyes. He missed the two producers, more than he'd ever admit to out loud.

"Well, it would make sense that you dreamed that, what with the shutdown and everything, plus we all miss Sunny."

"It wasn't a dream. I'm telling you I visited a parallel universe," Shayne insisted, cringing as he heard himself. Crazy. He sounded crazy. Shayne bowed his head, unable to look her in the eye after his ludicrous confession.

"Okay, Shayne," she huffed, "tell me this. If you traveled to a parallel world, why did I find your body here? Hmm?"

"I don't know," Shayne groaned in frustration. He searched his mind for a believable answer, but nothing came to mind, nothing that made perfect sense, at least. "Maybe I left my body behind? Maybe that was the Shayne from that world's body? I just know that whatever that was, it wasn't a dream." The worlds spilled out, a jumble of frustrating nonsense that he hoped would be convincing enough to put an end to this discussion. That way he could avoid the real reason that he was convinced that it was a parallel universe and not a dream.

Explaining Alternate Courtney and Shayne's relationship and her advances on him without making things awkward seemed impossible. How didn't he tell her what that universe's Courtney was like? What he presumed their relationship was like without labeling himself a pervert or admitting to feelings that he wasn't sure he even had? These were things that had him convinced simply because he would never dream of such things, yet if he brought it up, Courtney would jump straight to that conclusion. Who wouldn't? Shayne sighed, feeling Courtney's disapproving gaze on him. She didn't believe his rambled list of excuses. With a heavy breath in, Shayne willed his courage to breakthrough his worry and fear. _She'll understand_ , he reassured himself.

"I wouldn't dream..." Shayne trailed up, the courage he mustered dissipating as quickly as it came.

"Wouldn't dream what?"

"Don't kill me. I'm still freaking about it myself, but we," Shayne rushed his words and bit his lip. "Never mind."

"No, tell me. I promise not to judge."

"I woke up, just like I did just now. You were there. You." Shayne blushed. "You crawled into my lap. You wanted to..." Shayne sucked in a large breath of air. Why was he telling her this? He didn't need to tell her this. She didn't need to hear the details, yet they were falling off his lips without his consent. Shayne bit his tongue. "We were a thing, Courtney. Like a thing, thing."

"Gross Shayne. I don't need to hear about you fantasizing about me." Courtney smacked his shoulder. Shayne half expected her to stand up, yet she stayed next to him with her arm still pressed up against his.

"That's not what I'm saying. I don't, I've never," Shayne stopped, finishing that statement would just be a lie. Though he never purposefully fantasized about her, Courtney found her way into his dreams more than he'd like to admit. It was just one of the factors that had Shayne's feelings towards her teetering between friendship and something more. Not that it mattered. Their work situation forbid it, and, after that reaction, she probably didn't feel the same way anyway. Shayne stood up and started pacing. "Or maybe it was. I don't even..."

"I mean, I'm flattered to have you dreaming of me, but I'm not going to lie-" Courtney brought both of her hands out in front of her face and waved at him to stop.

"Can we just chalk this up to stress and forget about this for now?" Shayne leaned against the sink counter. Despite the awkwardness tainting the air, he felt relieved. It was like talking it out had enabled him to breathe, plus she was still there, next to him. She stayed.

"I still want to know why you were passed out in here. Have you been drinking?" Courtney stood up and marched over to him, practically sticking her nose in his mouth. Shayne pressed back against the deja vu bubbling up in his throat. "You don't smell of alcohol, so I think we can rule out you being blackout drunk."

"I feel drunk." Shayne shook his head in disbelief. He needed to let this go. For now, at least. The air felt light around them finally with them no longer sweltering in his gloom.

"Well, I can assure that you aren't," Courtney reassured him. "I checked with the crew after I found you passed out. One beer. That was all anyone saw you drink, and since you don't smell of alcohol, I think it's safe to assume that you didn't down a few shots on your way here."

"Three beers. I remember two empties on a table I was sitting next to at one point," Shayne corrected her.

"Okay, so you had three beers. When was the last time three beers got you blackout drunk?" Courtney asked with a smile.

"Never?" Shayne dropped his gaze as an embarrassed smile touched his lips.

"Thought so. Don't worry so much." Courtney flashed a smile. "Did you eat anything funny recently?"

"Not that I know of." Courtney pressed her forearm to his forehead. Shayne bit his lip. _Don't think about it, Shayne. Don't even think._

"Well, you're hot, but not fever hot." There was that line again though it was meant as a joke this time around, and not as flirtation like last time. Shayne struggled to see the difference. Dream or parallel universe, whatever it was, it shattered him, obliterating his ability to navigate that thin line between friendly banter and romantic flirtations, a line that he once straddled so nicely. _She's joking. Friendly banter. You know this, Shayne,_ he reminded himself, though he still found himself struggling to suppress himself and think straight. The feeling of her on his lap remained front and center in his mind, threatening to taint his actions.

"Thanks." Shayne scoffed. Despite knowing he was back in his reality where Courtney and he were just friends, Shayne found himself anticipating Courtney to make a move, or maybe he just hoped she would. With this new shift in perspective, Shayne couldn't tell anymore. How much of this was deja vu and how much of this was just his feelings? Shayne threw that thought away. He needed to stay present for now. He didn't need to dwell on potential feelings that had no future. Friends. They were friends in this universe. Best friends, and nothing more.

"That just leaves stress." Courtney's face fell.

"Makes sense, I guess." Shayne shrugged.

"Well, we should do something about it, don't you think?" Shayne bit down on his lip. _She doesn't mean it that way,_ he repeated to himself, over and over again. He needed to snap out of this.

"Eh?" Shayne raised an eyebrow. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"C'mon, I'll show you." Courtney ducked down, using his legs for balance as she rummaged around underneath the sink. Shayne counted to ten under his breath, eyes focused on the ceiling lights. He heard a pop before Courtney emerged with a familiar red plunger in hand "Let's have some fun." Courtney crabbed Shayne's hand and lead him down the hall, passing various crew members playing a makeshift game involving hitting coffee mugs and other breakable knick-knacks with a baseball bat. Courtney paused in the kitchen, grabbing a six-pack of beer from the fridge before snatching a bottle opener from the drawer. "I know you're not feeling one-hundo, but..." She lifted the beer and shrugged, a cute but goofy smile lighting her face.

"Actually feeling pretty good right now, if I'm being honest. Guess it really was the stress."

"I'm glad. You had me scared for a while, there." Courtney smiled. "Here, carry this." She shoved the plunger into his hands before leaving the beer on the kitchen counter and disappearing downtime hallway. Courtney dashed back, waving a bottle of champagne in his face. "Look what I found!" Shayne chuckled.

"So are you going to tell me what we're doing?"

"You'll see." She winked, gesturing with her head for him to follow.


	5. Courtney

Courtney dodged Shayne's attempts to catch her as she held her phone above her head, zig-zagging back and forth through the spacious executive office. Floor to ceiling windows made up the exterior facing wall, though long, black curtains currently obscured them, allowing a shattered moonlight to peak through. On one side of the office, two black, faux leather love seats bookended a matching couch, facing a wall-mounted fifty-inch flat screen and boxing in a glass coffee table. Empty beer bottles and an unopened bottle of champagne cluttered the coffee table along with two empty champagne glasses sitting next to two crumpled, plaid button-ups. On the other side, a large L-shaped office desk walled off a more conventional office set up, the desk itself covered in an assorted mess of files, books, and various desk toys. A dented computer monitor flickered on the floor in front of the desk, the red plunger suctioned to the screen.

"I can't believe you recorded that," Shayne growled, sliding across the desk and knocking loose papers and books to the ground. Courtney giggled as she evaded him, ducking under the desk and bolting to the couch. She used the couch as cover, watching Shayne fail to clear the desk, his body quaking with laughter as he pretended to swim across it. They were both on the drunker side of tipsy, their faces red with heat and their movements clumsy and off-kilter. She cherished the buzz, enjoying the brief respite from the despair of this morning's news. Courtney twisted away from Shayne's table shenanigans to pop another bottle of beer open. The now semi-cool liquid slinked down her throat with ease as she downed the beer in one go to circumvent its foul taste. No matter what Shayne said, she still did and always would find beer disgusting. Courtney wiped her mouth dry and placed the empty bottle back on the table before pivoting back to Shayne.

Courtney snorted into laughter upon noticing Shayne struggling to stay on the table in a precarious balancing act where one wrong move would propel him crashing to the ground. Shayne braced himself on a rolling chair while his legs safely rested on the table. His upper body swayed back and forth, the chair moving out from under him as he attempted to force his upper body back onto the table.

"God, this is gold." Courtney choked out through her laughter, floundering as she thrust off the couch and stood up. She swiped through her phone. Filming him seemed like a smart decision to her intoxicated mind.

"I'm fine. Just fine. Just watch me suffer, you sadist," Shayne spat out though his light and playful tone betrayed him.

"And here we see Mr. Frog Legs in his natural habitat," Courtney put on a voice as she recorded, "as he navigates the dangers of the office. One wrong move, and BOOM!" Courtney wobbled closer, zooming in on his face. "Can he do it?" A dumb and stupid narration that would be cringe-worthy if it wasn't for the alcohol pulsing through their veins.

"If this damn chair just fucking cooperated!" Shayne stared straight into the camera, the vein on his forehead straining against his skin. Courtney ended the recording just as she doubled-over in laughter. Shayne bowed his head, permitting himself succumb to it as well. A bad idea. He erupted into fully-body laughter that disrupted his precarious balancing act and sent him plummeting to the floor.

"Damnit," Courtney snorted out. "Right when I finished recording too."

"A little help here," Shayne wheezed, reaching out for her. Courtney grasped his hand with both of hers and yanked. Shayne let his body go limp, making himself dead weight and thus impossible to lift. Courtney smacked his shoulder, but he just giggled and swatted at her hand. "Weakling."

"Shut up and help, you Dingus." She stuck her tongue out at him, earning her a wink and a chuckle from Shayne. "You're stupid." Courtney braced herself; planting her feet in a wide karate-esc stance, she clamped both of her hands around his once more and, with her full weight behind her, she hauled him towards her. Shayne jumped up, the sudden shift of momentum flinging the duo toppling backwards. Courtney smashed into the couch, somehow managing to stay upright despite Shayne barreling into her.

"Thanks." Shayne pulled back only to drop his head onto her shoulder, requiring a moment to catch his breath. Courtney froze upon realizing that she was trapped between Shayne and the couch, Shayne unintentionally pressing Courtney against it, his arms blocking her in due to his hands gripping the couch on either side of her. Courtney blushed; she should say something. Two drunk bodies so close together always ended in regret, a ruined friendship, or worse, pregnancy; none of which Courtney desired to risk. Still, she stayed, finding comfort under his weight. Again, she blamed it on the booze, disregarding that just a few days ago she did the same while sober. Courtney felt Shayne shift his weight back. Her hands flew without her consent, reaching out to fist his white T-shirt.

"Careful, don't want you falling all over again," she covered, though she ached to tell him to stay. Shayne smiled at her, the duo locking eyes as a tense silence took over. Not a bad tension. The type of tension that begged for action with the promise to overwhelm. Courtney shifted her weight from one foot to the other as her eyes darted between Shayne's eyes, his lips and the ground. She felt herself leaning in. _Shit, Courtney. Not now. Not here. Not drunk._ Courtney scrunched her face before shoving Shayne back and ducking under his arm. He pivoted to watch her, prompting Courtney to wiggle her phone in his face. "Instagram will love this." She grinned, skipping around the couch and flopping on to it.

"Don't you dare," Shayne gritted through his teeth, swinging over the top of the couch to slide down next to her. Courtney swallowed and bit her lip. _I almost kissed him._ She stole a glance at Shayne. _I wanted to kiss him._ Courtney shook the thought from her head, swiping her phone open. She could think about that later. Courtney opened Instagram. Ian's post informing the fans about the Defy Media shutdown was the first post to load. She closed the app.

"I won't. Not now at least," she sighed, leaning over to place her phone down on the coffee table. "Ian posted about the shutdown. It's just one big reminder." She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Shayne nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. Courtney shook her head, sending the world into a small spin. She ignored it, instead, slamming her hand down on the bottle opener. "Never-mind that." She tossed the bottle opener at Shayne's lap before clamping her hand around the champagne bottle. "How 'bout a toast to the end?" She untwisted the wire cage on the champagne cork before prodding Shayne with the bottle. "Open it, strong boy." Courtney pivoted back to the table, gathering the two champagne glasses sitting next to their shirts. Shayne flicked the bottle opener over his shoulder before wrestling the bottle out of her hand.

POP. In one easy move, the cork flew into the air, bouncing off the television screen. The carbonated liquid gurgled out and down over his hands.

"Well, that was disappointing," Shayne scoffed, raising his eyebrows at the liquid spilling over his knuckles. _Thank you_ , Courtney kept her gratitude to herself, knowing very well that had the champagne exploded then Shayne would have soaked her. Shayne quickly filled their glasses before placing the bottle on the table and using one of the button-downs to wipe his sticky hands off. Shayne dinked his glass with hers and raised it to his lips.

"Sad you couldn't get me wet?" Courtney spoke without thinking. Courtney's free hand shot to her mouth as her brain caught up with her words. Her cheeks flushed, eyes widening to white saucers and jaw hanging.

"What did you just say?" Shayne squeaked as he did a spit take, splattering her with a mixture of champagne and saliva. Courtney squeegeed the splutter off her arms and chest with her hand, her mind racing to find a suitable answer. Nothing came. The alcohol clouded her brain, stifling her fast wit. With both of their inhibitions down for the count, going down this path would only lead to no good.

"You're just salty you didn't get to douse me in champagne." A bright red Courtney smacked his arm, inconspicuously wiping her hand off on his shirt. _Smooth, Courtney._

"I'm pretty sure you said something else." Shayne dug his heels in. Courtney sighed, realizing he wasn't going to take the banter bait and let this go. "A little Freudian slip, maybe?" Shayne teased. "You know, if that's how I make you feel." Shayne waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, indicating to Courtney that he meant it as a joke. It didn't relieve her embarrassment nor disperse the questions piercing through her skull. When did she start seeing him in such a sexual way? _It's the alcohol, Courtney. The alcohol and the stress_ , she told herself though she knew it was a lie.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Shayne." Courtney corrected, downing her champagne and then rushing to pour herself another.

"Sure, you haven't had enough?"

"One more won't hurt. It's not like we're coming into work tomorrow." Shayne pursed his lips in contemplation for a second before nodding along in agreement.

"Hope whoever works here isn't, that's for sure." He nodded to the mess behind him, gesturing to the broken monitor with the plunger stuck to its screen flickering on the ground. Courtney bit back a fit of giggles. "You still have that video, don't you?" Shayne growled. Their eyes fell to her phone.

"Don't you dare," Courtney warned him, locking eyes with him as she inched her hand towards her phone. Shayne copied her until both of their hands hovered over the phone. In a split second, Courtney snatched the phone away and dashed off towards the curtains. Shayne followed suit, bolting off the couch to keep close on her heel.

"Courtney. Ruth. Miller. You better delete that video or I'll," Shayne roared as he stomped after her. Laughter filled the room.

"You'll what?" Courtney peaked her head out from the curtains to stick her tongue out at him only to panic upon seeing how close he was to her. Courtney tried to bolt down the narrow space between the drapery and the windows, but her legs failed her, tripping over herself just one stride in and falling into the curtains. The long, black cloth encased her, wrapping around her flailing limbs and stopping her in her tracks. She was stuck.

Shayne tackled her, wrestling her to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs. Through the chaos, Courtney managed to keep her phone out of Shayne's reach, using her legs to keep him at a distance. In the moment, it seemed practical, but as their momentum tapered off, she found herself straddling Shayne's lap. Courtney froze, allowing Shayne to roll them over. Shayne pinned her hands to the ground, snatching the phone from her in the process. Courtney squeaked as he shifted his weight back onto his calves so that he was practically sitting on her lap. With one hand keeping hers pinned above her head, Shayne flipped through her phone. She knew giving him her passcode had been a bad idea.

"You do realize this video makes you my accomplice." Shayne raised an eyebrow at her. Courtney kept herself still, hyper _-_ aware of the friction that any movement would bring. Even the rise and fall of her breathing had her chest nearly brushing up against his. Her skin tingled, the false, alcoholic heat flushing over her. She closed her eyes and dug her teeth into her bottom lip, willing the pain to clean her thoughts and focus on his words. Did Shayne realize how close they were? Was he doing this on purpose? Courtney counted to three and breathed, stifling the urge to wiggle her hips. _Stay present, Courtney._

"Like anyone will care enough to press charges. Cowards," Courtney quipped back. A foul taste stained her tongue, a welcomed distraction from their current position. Shayne placed the phone to the side and refocused his attention onto her. Their eyes locked. Her breath caught in her throat. She should speak up and get Shayne off her before things got out of hands. Before this foul taste became regret. "Our contracts." She didn't know if it was meant to deter him or not. Hell, she didn't even know where their contracts stood legality wise.

"Don't matter anymore. Nothing does." She smelled the alcohol on his breath. "Fired. Effective immediately." A heaviness filled the air, their playful tension teetering on the edge of melancholy finally tipped over, flooding out their frisky antics and drowning them in despair. If there was ever a way to sober up fast, this was it.

Shayne swung his leg off Courtney and stood up, offering Courtney a hand up. Dazed, she wobbled to the window. Courtney pulled the dark curtains back and pressed forehead to the window, taking in the city below them. It was nothing spectacular, but she didn't know when she would see it again. Unlit business buildings scattered the main road, standing out amongst an array of one-story retail stores. A few cars scattered the well lit main streets, while darkness encompassed the side roads. It all looked so small from where she stood. She felt Shayne step up to stand beside her, but she kept her eyes on the city, watching it stretch and shrink as the alcohol altered her vision. At least, she believed it was the alcohol's doing.

"Fired. Effective immediately," she repeated Shayne's words, her voice distorting into a painful static. She closed her eyes, hoping to will the sound away. It just got louder, drowning out the world around her and plummeting her into darkness.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Bright. Too bright. The light pierced through her eyelids, stinging her corneas and alerting Courtney to a shift in location. Did she blackout? She tried to open her eyes, but her body failed to respond. Disconnected. A numbness vibrated through her form, dampening her senses. Her soul shriveled up in the back of her skull, a separate entity peeking through her eyes the way a doll watches from a dollhouse window. Just the act of controlling her body seemed foreign. She took a deep breath in and counted to ten before trying once more, willing all of her strength into the act of opening her eyes. Success.

Courtney cracked an eye open, hoping to ascertain her whereabouts. Pain seared her pupils, giving her just a few seconds to identify the light source before her eyes slammed shut on their own accord. Stage lights, the kind they used on indoor sets. What were they shooting? Was this part of the shutdown party? Courtney scrunched her eyes, forcing long, purposeful blinks that wrinkled her entire face. As her eyes adjusted, ambiguous silhouettes appeared in her peripheral vision, blurred layers of colors that appeared to be seated next to her. Courtney assumed the one on her left to be Shayne due to its familiar color pattern and bulky build when compared to the far lankier and far more colorful figure sitting to her right.

Courtney froze, her sense of touch kicking in. A hand. There was a hand on her thigh. There was a hand gripping her bare thigh. Courtney swallowed. Courtney stole a glance at her lap, her vision pulsing in on the short hem of her skirt. Okay, so they were shooting a sketch. They had to be. She wouldn't wear a skirt for a Smosh Pit shoot. Shorts maybe, but a skirt? Courtney shook her head. Why she was wearing a skirt didn't matter. The fingers currently dancing dangerously close to her inner thigh did.

She followed the hand and attached arm to the blur on her left, her vision just clear enough to confirm her suspicion. Shayne. The hand belonged to Shayne. Comfort washed over her, a sense of security that only his touch could give her though she did find his hand's placement strange. She shook it off, chalking it up to it being a part of a sketch, the only way she could make sense of it. Acting. It had to be, right? He would never... Courtney pressed her lips together, her mind jumping back to the bathroom and Shayne's claim of visiting a parallel universe. No. That was a dream. She had said as much to him back then. A dream. Just a dream.

Swallowing her reassurance, Courtney redirected her attention to the surrounding set. Surprise shot through her veins. A Smosh Pit set. This had to be a Smosh pit set. Them sitting at a table. The set dressings. How everything was blocked out. It screamed Smosh Pit. Not the sketch set Shayne's hand and her skirt lead her to assume. Courtney clenched her fist, rolling her fingers against her palm in hopes to quell the anxious energy bubbling up from her stomach. Shayne's hand made sense if they were acting out a script, but a Squad Vlog? He might put his hand on her shoulder, but unless this was spin the bottle, and the table in front of them indicated that it wasn't... Courtney's heart jumped a beat. Either he was baiting the fans, or... _Stop it, Courtney. Parallel universes don't exist. A dream. This is a stupid, drunk dream,_ Courtney reminded herself. It didn't stop the uneasiness still pumping through her veins. Shayne squeezed her thigh, derailing her train of thought with a surge of comfort. She ignored the awkward heat starting to build. A heat both familiar and foreign, a heat she learned to suppress when it came to Shayne.

Courtney considered removing Shayne's hand, debating whether the awkwardness outweighed the comfort it brought. For now, Courtney opted for the comfort, deciding to instead redirect her attention to her surroundings, first noting the table in front her. Four whiteboards and attached expo markers adored the table each resting directly opposite a squad member. Shayne sat to her left at one end of the table, Noah on to her right with Keith next to him. No shocker there. Courtney frowned upon realizing Olivia's absence. Courtney turned her attention to the crew behind the camera. A crowd of familiar faces looked back at her, none of them Olivia. One face, in particular, prompted Courtney to look twice. It couldn't be. Their old producer, her gay Smosh dad, Sunny Peabody. _Just like Shayne said._ Courtney shoved the thought aside. She was dreaming. She had to be. It was just a coincidence, a by-product of the day's events sneaking into her dreams. Shayne's fingers danced over the invisible line that separated the top of her thigh from her inner thigh, once again shaking Courtney from her thoughts.

An uncomfortable fluttering tickled her stomach. Intimate. Even if this was just a dream, his hand - where it was - it didn't feel right. It didn't feel wrong either. Confusing was a better word. It felt confusing. Courtney placed her hand on top of Shayne's, her hand shaking as Shayne resisted her attempt to pull his hand off her thigh. She stopped, realizing how inappropriate it would look on camera, what with their positioning and her shaky movements. Though Keith's muted rambling suggested that the camera was on him and not her, she couldn't be sure, and if she was in frame, any exaggerated arm movement would send fans into a tizzy. She willed her anxious trembling to stop, dancing her fingertips across the top of his hand, her nails unintentionally scraping his skin at times.

"What?" Shayne gritted through his teeth, his finger tips digging into her thigh. Was he scolding her?

"The cameras," Courtney mumbled, gesturing to his hand with her eyes. "What do you think you're doing?

"Exactly what you told me to," Shayne huffed but removed his hand. Courtney's senses blurred out upon the initial lack of contact, the world going in and out of focus for a brief moment as her mind flooded with questions. Told him to? She told him to grab her like that? When? Did she start dreaming mid-dream? Was that even possible? Each one pointed more and more to Shayne's parallel universe theory. She knew that logic didn't apply to dreams, nor did the laws of physics for that matter. Even time became distorted when it came to dreams, but they were also just a projection of her inner self. Everything here should be a figment of her imagination, and if she created this world, she should know everything within it. Yet what he said? It implied a timeline that extended beyond the confines of this dream, a timeline that she couldn't remember, a timeline that felt foreign even to her subconscious. Did that mean Shayne's theory was right?

"Cut!" Sunny's voice jolted Courtney from her thoughts. Her eyes flipped around the table, a blush creeping onto her cheeks upon seeing everyone's eyes on her. She turned to focus on Sunny as he walked over to stand directly across from her. A mixture of concern and frustration lingered on his face as he placed a hand on the table and squatted down to be at eye level with her. "Courtney, you're dazing off again."

"Huh." Courtney blinked, nodding without thought.

"Look, I get it. It's been a long day for all of us. You're tired. I'm tired. We're all feeling it."

"Just lost in thought, sorry," she responded with a weak smile.

"It's fine, just stay present this time," Sunny said, slapping the table twice before using it for leverage and standing up. "This is the last shoot of the day, and we all want to go home." Sunny waddled back to the camera and gestured for the filming crew to get in place. "Alright guys, this is drawing cartoon characters from memory take two. In one, two, three, action."

Courtney found herself falling into line for the rest of the shoot, playing off the squad and their usual banter with ease. The sense of disconnect still gnawed at the back of her mind though she managed to keep herself present. Deciding whether this was a dream or a parallel universe could wait. She wanted to enjoy the comforting familiarity of the situation and forget that, in her reality, Smosh was over.

Her enjoyment dissipated into thin air the second filming ended, however, allowing the disconnect to take hold. Courtney watched the walls close in around her in short burst, pulsing in time with her quickening heartbeat. Her throat tightened, and the air thickened until taking a breath in hurt. She needed out. Courtney bolted off set, half aware of this world's Shayne following close at her heel. She needed fresh air. Courtney navigated a never-ending maze of hallways, too overwhelmed to notice her - unfamiliar - surroundings. Turn after turn, the elevators continued to elude her until she finally stopped dead in her tracks, giving up upon reaching another dead end. Courtney closed her eyes and counted to ten, stabilizing herself enough to look around.

Realization struck hard. Bright, colorful murals depicting Smosh characters and actors covered the walls, with various framed awards and memorabilia hanging in structured intervals. This wasn't the Defy building. _'Ian never sold Smosh to Defy.'_ Shayne's words played on repeat. _So this is where you went._ Courtney allowed herself to accept Shayne's theory, too many factors working against this being a dream. A weight dragged her stomach down, a strange discomfort settling in. If this was the world Shayne visited, then in this world, Shayne and she were... Courtney felt her heart flutter with fear and excitement over the thought that the barriers keeping her feelings in line didn't exist here.

Suddenly, a large hand grabbed hers. Her world went dark as the figure shoved her into a small closet. She heard a door close and a lock clicking as she backed away from the figure, only stopping when her back hit a wall. Her voice caught in the back of her throat. Suddenly, a body pressed up against her, a large leg wedging in between hers as a mouth left an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. Her body went stiff, fear preventing her from shoving the body off of her. _This can't be happening._

"What was with you back there?" Shayne. It was Shayne. Confusion. Relief. Heat. A chaos of emotions washed over her, fighting for control in a confusing mess that had her questioning her reaction. Courtney thought she would be repulsed; after all, just the thought of wanting to kiss Shayne had her second-guessing herself back in her universe. She wasn't repulsed though. Sure, it felt strange. Even if this wasn't 'her' Shayne, it still looked like him, smelled like him, and felt like him. For all intents and purposes, he was still the guy she called her best friend and brother, and now? Now he had her pinned against the door, grinding into her as she contemplated whether or not she liked it. She spent years in denial, shoving down any non-platonic feelings in order to maintain the balance and keep their friendship intact. Courtney pressed her lips together, fighting off the instinctual pleasure. _What happens when you go back? If you act on this. Will you be able to contain it then?_

Courtney brought her hands to his chest and pushed. Shayne immediately backed off. It shouldn't have surprised her. Shayne would never force himself on her, or on anyone for that matter. He was far too respectful, far too good to be that kind of guy. Even if this wasn't 'her' Shayne, it was still a version of him. "Sorry. I just figured...We usually... Is everything okay?" Shayne shuffled backwards to lean against the door.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling myself." Courtney bit her lip, stepping forward to drop her head on Shayne's chest. Just his proximity, just this small touch. She needed his comfort, and considering the situation, she figured he wouldn't think anything strange. Him wrapping his frog-leg arms around her confirmed this.

"I can tell." He nuzzled her, peppering the top of her head with soft kisses as he whispered sweet nothings. Shayne, 'her' Shayne, had been right. This universe? It was nice.

"I just. You're hand. We were filming... what if the fans noticed... they would find out... we..." Her worries spilled from her mouth.

"Babe, the fans have known about us for like a year." Courtney stiffened, prompting Shayne to just hold her closer. Did he just say a year? How long had they been dating in this universe? "I guess Olivia got you pretty good with that hat, earlier. "

"Olivia with a hat?"

"Okay, you're really worrying me now." Shayne used a hand to lift Courtney's chin, forcing her to make eye contact with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead as he spoke, "We had a Try not to Laugh shoot. Olivia was in the chair. She threw a hat back behind the curtains, and it hit you in the head. You don't remember?"

"No. Yeah. I... I guess it just slipped my mind," Courtney lied. Wrong. He had it wrong. She had hit Olivia in the head, not the other way around. Stranger yet, that shoot happened nearly a year ago. _Did I travel to the past as well?_

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor." Shayne crossed his forearms over her lower back to hold her closer. Two puzzle pieces locking together. "If you have a concussion.."

"I don't. At least, I don't think I do. I'm not nauseous or anything. I probably just need some rest." Courtney leaned back enough to lock eyes with Shayne, losing herself in the loving concern radiating from his blue orbs. Before she could comprehend what was happening, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. An unintentional kiss that should have been short and sweet, yet it consumed her. His heat. His security. It overwhelmed, drowning out any lingering doubts.

Though the urge to kiss Shayne was nothing new, acting on it had always been forbidden. Even without their contract banning relationships between co-workers, the consequences of a potential fall out proved to be an effective deterrent. Here though? She felt safe here. Safe to explore her suppressed feelings. Courtney pulled back with a smile before crashing her lips back into his, her hands slipping up his neck and into his hair. She tugged at his hair, needing him closer. Shayne slid his hands up her body until they cupped her cheeks.

Courtney opened her mouth to him, drunk off the heat burning between them. She felt a hand slide down to settle on her ribcage, his thumb barely brushing over her chest, teasing her. A soft moan tumbled off Courtney's lips, catching her off guard. The momentary shock allowed a sliver of fear to take hold. If she let this continue... How could she go back? How could she face 'her' Shayne? Courtney broke the kiss, dropping her gaze. Tears clung to her lower eyelids, salty droplets of regret and want teetering on her eyelashes and threatening to fall.

"Stop." Courtney choked out, no longer able to contain her tears. The hand on her breast fell away though Shayne kept his hand on her cheek, wiping at a stray tear with his thumb. Courtney grabbed his hand, tugging it off. She couldn't do this. She couldn't stand here, taking comfort in a lie, a false promise that would never, could never see the light of day in her reality. _This is all your fault. If you had just kept your hands to yourself, your lips to yourself then..._ Courtney chastised herself, feeling her years in denial shatter into pieces. She liked her best friend in a way reserved for lovers, and there was no going back.

A familiar pulsing vibrated around her. Static filled her ears. The world went dark.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


'Ilomilo' by Billie Eilish filtered through the air, a soft, muffled hum that stirred Courtney back to consciousness. Through her clouded senses, she felt large arms wrapped around her, holding her against a calming warmth. Shayne's arms to be more precise. His large biceps along with the calming effect the touch had on her told her as much.

A soft light flickered across her closed eyes. Courtney scrunched her face before blinking her eyes open to find her face buried in damp darkness. She froze, realizing her position. She was sitting in his lap with her upper body sprawled across his, her head buried in his chest and hands balling up his tear-stained shirt all while he leaned back against a wall, his arms holding her tight against him. Courtney swallowed, shifting so that her cheek rested flush with his chest. His heart pounded in her ear as she counted her breaths and took in her surroundings. She was back home, back in the office with the plunger covered monitor. It still flickered in the background. Courtney choked down air as she fought the urge to cry.

"You're awake," Shayne's voice filtered through her ear, a soothing kindness that heated her soul. Courtney leaned back to look Shayne in the eye. His worry poured over her as she felt his hand slip up to her face and brush a stray hair being her ear. Courtney dropped her gaze, her lip trembling. "Courtney," he whispered, his hand falling to cup her cheek, drawing her towards him. The false hope of his lips taking hers poked its head out as he held her face just inches from his. Shayne's eyes bored into her as he studied her. His thumb brushed over her cheek, wiping a tear away. When did she start crying? "Are you o..." Before Shayne could finish, Courtney broke, a ragged sob wracking her body as she buried her face in his chest once more.

"I went there too," she blubbered into his shirt.


	6. Shayne

Ian's house never failed to overwhelm Shayne. From the sprawling wall of flora covering the front yard to its spacious interior, it made for a daunting impression. Translucent, white shades capped the top halves of the windows lining the exterior, right wall of the room. A wall-mounted flat-screen hung on the back wall. A large, grey, L-shape couch boxed in a wooden coffee table, all of which faced the TV. To the left, a metal railing blocked off the staircase leading downstairs.

"So we're still waiting on Keith and Noah, but just take a seat wherever," Ian said as he ushered Shayne into his living room before sauntering off towards where Pam and Josh were setting up the audio and camera equipment. Shayne absently nodded. _Typical._ Koah - that was what everyone called the duo - operated on their own schedule, always arriving at the cusp of being acceptably tardy and being unacceptably late. Noah referred to it as being fashionably late, while Keith brushed it off as just going with the flow. Shayne saw it as it was: two best friends getting caught up in some bizarre adventure and forgetting their responsibilities until the very last minute. He didn't mind. They were never late enough to be a burden, after all.

Shayne stood on the outskirts of the living room. Olivia and Courtney occupied the corner by the windows, while Boze and Damien claimed the couch. Both groups too involved in their conversations to notice Shayne's arrival. Not desiring to interrupt either group, Shayne opted for the kitchen. The wooden floors squeaked as he crossed the threshold and entered the living room. As he walked, he skimmed his hand across the top of a fireplace that sat to his left. A thin layer of dust gathered on his fingertips. Shayne paused to inspect a few framed photographs. One particular photo caught his eye: a young Ian and Anthony standing next to one another, Ian looking somewhere off camera and Anthony giving the camera an awkward smile. The good ole days before Defy's poisonous control finalized Anthony's decision to leave Smosh. _You got out just in time_ , Shayne mused before shuffling off to the kitchen tucked behind the living room.

A small, kitchen island separated the kitchen from the living room. Wooden cabinets paneled the walls from top to bottom, causing the kitchen to feel suffocatingly small especially when compared to the rest of the house. Shayne grabbed a La Croix from the counter. He considered checking the fridge for a cold one, but he figured the food and drink on the counter accounted for what Ian wanted to share. A warm La Croix wouldn't kill him. Shayne popped the soda open before hauling himself to stand in the threshold separating the kitchen from the living room.

His eyes fell to Courtney. A part of him craved to interrupt Courtney and Olivia, to drag Courtney aside, fretting that he wouldn't get another opportunity. Shayne had tried to get in touch before this, reaching out to her an uncomfortable amount of times. Nothing worked. Five texts and two phone calls. All ghosted. He tried to understand, assuring himself that she just needed time to think. It didn't stop the ache in his heart. He wanted, no, needed to make sure that everything was okay. That she was okay. His stomach churned reflecting back to that night, to the broken mess he had abandoned her in. He had volunteered to spend the night. In hindsight, he should have demanded it. Instead, he had just watched from the Uber as she stumbled into her apartment.

And then there was his own selfish need propelling him towards her, a desperation just to talk. Holding it in weighed on him, the confusion of it all tangling his thoughts. It burned, its fire growing with every passing minute he remained silent. He ached to sort it out, preferably with someone he trusted. Someone who understood. He held himself back though, knowing better than to act on his selfish desire. Even if he chose to indulge in his selfishness, it needed to wait. _Afterwards,_ Shayne decided, _I'll talk to her afterwards._ Shayne tightened his grip on his soda, taking a long swig from the can. The warm liquid coated his tongue, the sensation of warm bubbles prompting him to gag. Still, he forced it down, an act that sent him into a coughing fit. The noise alerted the room to his presence.

"Shayne! You made it!" Damien called out, prompting the others to turn to him. Shayne's reflexes failed him, unable to look away before Courtney caught him staring. Her eyes locked onto his, sparking the anxiety in his stomach to rampage. His vision pulsed, an electronic distortion covering the world in static. He tried to fight it, eyes fixed on her as he counted his breathing. For a moment, the static fizzled into a dull hum.

Shayne stepped towards her, his body moving without his permission. Even after realizing this, he didn't stop, needing the comfort of their friendship. He made it halfway before witnessing her face twist with disgust. He mouthed the word 'please' to her, hoping his eyes had deceived him. She just pulled a brittle smile before turning her back to him. His heart sank, his feet anchoring to the ground as dread and panic sprouted from his anxiety. _What did you see?_ He did something. His alternate self did something. Why else would she look at him with such disgust, like looking at him hurt? Why would she turn her back on him? His despair distorted the world against him, twisting everything out of proportion to provoke an overreaction. _Are we still friends?_ Shayne stumbled backward. Something happened, and now she hated him.

"Shayne? You okay, Buddy?" He heard Damien ask. Shayne bobbed head, his eyes darting to Courtney's back. Her disgust flashed across his eyes as the edges of his vision blurred.

Static noise echoed in his ear. The world fell out from underneath him. 

Shayne felt his body crash feet first into a hard surface, the pain shooting up his feet and through his legs. It dissipated into a pulsating tingle, making way for a far more bizarre sensation to take hold. It was like his soul was pulsing in and out of his body. A throbbing echo in his head. His consciousness bouncing into place. Despite his distorted spatial awareness and clogged senses, Shayne knew he was standing though he didn't know how he managed to keep his footing after that fall.

"I don't care that he's your best friend. We can't afford it, Shayne!" A familiar voice pierced Shayne's numbness, breaking through the fog and jump-starting his senses. He forced his eyes to open, a blur of color filling his vision. _Not again,_ Shayne groaned, rubbing his eyes. The cloudy film obscuring his sight dissolved to reveal Ian standing in front of him. "Or have you forgotten that between the copyright strikes and YouTube's wonky algorithm, we can barely afford to keep the squad?" What did he mean by 'keep the squad'? Was this Smosh failing or something? And what was this about affording his best friend? Damien? Unsure of how to respond, Shayne focused attention to the area behind Ian, noting the familiar wooden cabinets. They were still in Ian's house.

"Damien's more than a pretty face," he heard Courtney respond from somewhere behind him, confirming his suspicion that they were talking about Damien. Shayne turned his head to look for her, but only saw Ian's familiar grey couch. _She must be lying down,_ _or something_ , he shrugged it off in favor of taking in his surroundings. He and Ian stood on either side of the invisible line separating the kitchen from the living room. He didn't see anyone else. _Downstairs maybe?_ "He can take up some of the behind the scenes work too," Courtney's disembodied voice continued, bringing Shayne back to the conversation at hand. From what he gathered, they were discussing Smosh hiring Damien, but Damien should already be a member of Smosh by now. _What year is it?_ Shayne shook his head. He didn't have time to overthink this, his gut telling him that he needed to keep up the appearance that he belonged here. For that, he needed to stay present. He could confirm the date some other way later.

"Don't you start too," Ian groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is Shayne's battle. I don't need the power couple ganging up on me." Shayne's eyes flew open, shock briefly lighting his face. _Settle down. This isn't new. Focus on getting Damien hired,_ Shayne told himself, shifting his weight to one foot as he pulled at the hem of his shirt.

"Uhm, well, Damien, he..." Shayne stumbled on his words. Damien joining Smosh came naturally in his world, Damien tagging along to some dinners where he mingled with the squad and crew. Eventually, a space opened up, and it just sort of happened. This situation? It was all new, and he didn't want to fail his best friend even if this was a parallel universe. How did he persuade Ian without knowing the details of this world? What if he gave himself away or said something completely out of line? Did it matter?

"Well?" Ian cleared his throat.

"Put him on Smosh Games, then. Part-time. He's a good gamer. Let him prove his worth," Shayne improvised, hoping for the best.

"Are you high?" Ian raised his eyebrows and blinked. "Smosh Games? Look, I know we've been tossing the idea around for a while, and I agree, a gaming channel could pull in some more traffic, but we don't have the resources to start a new channel. Even if we did. You saw how crazy things got when we introduced the squad to the channel, and I don't even want to get into Anthony's departure. The internet doesn't like change. A new channel and a new face? It would be total chaos," Ian huffed. Shayne shivered. Smosh Games didn't exist here. Of course, it didn't. Defy Media organized Smosh Games. No Defy meant no Smosh Games. Not as he knew it, at least. Then why was the squad a thing? And why did Anthony still leave? Defy It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

"Well then, maybe he can..."

"Look, I know you mean well, and I'm sure Damien is a swell guy, really," Ian cut him off, "but it's not happening." Ian placed a hand on Shayne's shoulder. "I'm sorry." Ian gave a weak smile before walking off. _Fuck._

"Shayne." Courtney's voice floated through the air. Shayne spun on his heel. Nothing but the couch stared back at him. _Still hiding, I see._ He stepped forward to check the couch for her. "Shayne." Her voice distorted with static. Shayne stopped. Though he didn't know what exactly caused these visits, the sound of static seemed to always precede them. He was running out of time. He needed to check the date.

 _He has a calendar on his fridge_ , Shayne remembered, pivoting to face the kitchen. Static pulsed. _Please, not yet._ Shayne rushed into the kitchen. Relief swept over him upon seeing the calendar was still there. It read November 2018. Same year, just a different universe. A different Smosh. A hand grabbed his shoulder. His name echoed in his ear, two voices speaking in unison. Both Courtney's calling at him once.

The echo distorted into static. 

Shayne collided with the floor, his conscious reconciling with his body, allowing for the static distortion to fall away. The whispered echo of his name stayed, the lingering trace of the alternate world souring his tongue. The echo should be gone. There should be just one. Was he stuck in some in-between place? Was that possible? Shayne swallowed, focusing on his sense of hearing until the overlapping echo tapered off into just one, clear voice. Relief washed over him. Back. He was back. He could worry about the possibility of getting stuck in limbo later.

Shayne cracked an eye open, noting the human shaped-blur hovering over him _. Courtney?_ A delicate hand found his cheek, soft fingers brushing over his skin. He blinked, her touch fighting off the familiar numbness strangling his senses. A faint smile lit his lips upon seeing a worried Courtney staring down at him.

"You're awake." A sudden panic sparked his veins, deja vu washing over him once more. Was he back in the bathroom? Shayne darted his eyes around, frantically trying to figure out his location. A grey couch. Large windows. Wood floors. He sighed in relief.

"I hope so," Shayne choked out, his voice sounding foreign to his ears.

"Did you...?" She didn't have to finish for him to know that she was asking if he went to that universe again. Shayne nodded, prompting Courtney to press her lips together and furrow her brow. _Too cute._ To his surprise, Courtney leaned in, her blonde hair draping down to tickle his face. Shayne willed his hand to reach up and tangle his fingers in it, but his hand refused to move.

"Hey, might want to give him some space," he heard Ian cough. "He did just faint and all."

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." Courtney jumped away as if realizing how close they were. Shayne chuckled under his breath. With Courtney no longer blocking his view, Shayne noticed the rest of the squad crowding around him from a safe distance. A pang of guilt shot through his stomach at the thought of worrying his friends. Closing his eyes, Shayne willed himself to roll onto his side. His body listened.

"A little help?" Shayne groaned, struggling to push himself up. Disappointment sunk his stomach upon seeing Damien step forward, but he shoved it away, happy to see his best friend here and working for Smosh.

"Need a hand?" Shayne accepted Damien's outstretched hand, using it as leverage to pull himself up. Damien tugged Shayne into a bro-hug and whispered in his ear, "We need to talk." Damien patted Shayne's shoulder before helping him to the couch. "Someone want to bring him some water?" Boze hastily nodded and rushed to the kitchen.

"It's okay. I'm fine, really," Shayne hissed, a sharp spike of pain erupting from his skull. His hand flung to the back of his head where he felt a decent sized egg starting to swell, probably from falling on the kitchen tile.

"You probably have a concussion," Olivia piped up. Had Shayne been more aware, he would have seen the pointed glares shot her way courteous of Ian and Damien. In his current state, he could only handle one sensory input at a time, so he just focused on their voices. "What? I should know. I've had like five."

"Seriously, I'm fine. Let's just shoot this video and be done with it," Shayne lied. Concussion or not, he just wanted to move on. He turned to Courtney for back up. Instead, she dropped her gaze, refusing to make eye contact once more.

"The shoot can wait," Ian spoke up, "Keith and Noah still aren't here anyway. Go home. Get some rest. We'll try again tomorrow if you're feeling better." As if on cue, Keith and Noah barged through the door. Shayne cocked an eyebrow at Ian. Ian sighed. "Fine, but I want you home the second we stop filming, got it?"

The shoot panned out as expected for the first half, a jumble of nervous laughter and fake smiles as they informed their fans of Defy's Shutdown and what that meant for the future of Smosh. The second half, however, disintegrated into a hot mess. The script called for Shayne to wrestle his way over the couch and towards the camera, but with his senses and muscle control still in the process of stabilizing, he fumbled, putting too much weight on Courtney at one point. Ian refused to do another take, deciding not to risk another injury and instructing Damien to take Shayne home.

He texted her an apology on the car ride home. She never responded.


	7. Shayne

"She almost kissed you," Damien insisted, following Shayne into his apartment. "If Ian hadn't spoken up...." Shayne pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his best to ignore the dull throb building in the back of his skull. He blamed Damien for rambling non-stop the entire drive back from Ian's.

"Why are you still here again?" Shayne groaned, rubbing his eyes to dull the throbbing in his head. The pain pushed back, rushing his eyes in a blinding haze. Spots of color bloomed across his vision, sporadic bursts that faded in and out yet always lingered.

"Other than to bug you?" Damien quipped with a toothy grin. Shayne rolled his eyes, shaking his head out of habit. A mistake that bounced the pain between the walls of his skull, scrambling his brain. "You have a concussion."

"I feel fine," Shayne spit back. In truth, the chances of him having a concussion were high. The spots clouding his vision, the subtle nausea sloshing in his stomach, and the haze smothering his brain all pointed to it. Shayne just chose to deny it, relabeling his symptoms as side-effects of traveling between parallel worlds. That way supervision wouldn't be necessary, and he could hideaway to his room and forget the world. Forget about Smosh Games not existing. Forget about ruining Alternate Damien's chances at working at Smosh. Forget about the disgust on Courtney's face. Shayne wobbled as he lifted his foot to remove his shoe. A poor display of balance that sent him crashing into the wall shoulder first.

"Right, and that's why you can't stand straight," Damien grinned. "Look, I'm staying whether you like it or not." Shayne rubbed his shoulder before shifting to lean against his front door.

"Just don't push it."

"So about that almost kiss," Damien followed up as he sauntered over to the kitchen. Shayne thought back to waking up on Ian's floor, to Courtney's face hovering over him. Inches. A few inches and their lips would have met. Shayne ran his tongue over his teeth, bitterness creeping into his mouth. What then? Shayne swallowed. He denied himself the luxury of an answer, knowing the consequences of lingering on the topic for too long.

"Drop it," Shayne hissed, flopping down on the couch. Despite suppressing the 'almost kiss', his mind persisted, this time wielding the memory of his latest trip to that parallel universe. It cut through his barriers and pushed to the forefront of his brain, demanding to be acknowledged. Shayne clamped his mouth shut, the memory rushing to his mouth. The first time he visited, he had at least been able to unload on to Courtney, narrating the experience and releasing the pressure before it started to build. This time, with no outlet for release and the concussion scrambling his mind and dismantling his defenses, the pressure expanded at an exponential rate. I could tell Damien, Shayne considered, looking towards the kitchen.

"Fine, but can you at least fill me in?" Damien asked as he searched the fridge. "Something is definitely up with you. You're on edge. Didn't even say 'hi' when you arrived at Ian's, and now you're not even teasing me back. What gives?" Shayne evacuated his lungs until air filled his thoughts and his head floated on his shoulders. If he cleared his mind, maybe the pressure would dissipate. It didn't. It just latched on to the empty space, piling words onto his tongue and pulling on his lips.

"You won't believe me." Shayne drew into himself, his voice tapering into a weak whimper. The room grew around him, walls stretching to twice their height, the couch swelling to an uncomfortable proportion. Hearing himself out loud, the pathetic tone of his voice, how childlike it sounded, his raw vulnerability on display... Shayne's eyes sought out his bedroom, its promised shelter appealing to his instinct to run. Coward. Shayne swallowed. A shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Damien standing over him.

"Try me." Damien placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

-.-.-.-.-

"Okay, so you're telling me you visited a parallel universe where you and Courtney were... Intimate? Like extremely intimate," Damien reiterated as he returned the couch. He pushed the empty cans and bowls cluttering the coffee table aside and replaced them with a fresh bowl of chips and two La Croixs. Shayne had just finished summarizing his first visit to the parallel world, limiting his explanation to what he considered important and scanning over the more scandalous details. Of course, Damien had latched on to Alternate Shayne and Courtney's relationship. I should've started with the second time, Shayne admitted to himself.

"We were in a relationship," Shayne corrected.

"A hyper-sexual relationship," Damien countered.

"The sex was implied." Shayne scowled, a pungent bitterness coating his tongue. Using the word 'sexual' while talking about Courtney, even Alternate Courtney, disgusted him. While he had acknowledged their friendship shifting long before traveling to that parallel universe, Shayne had always prohibited himself from dwelling on any sexual notions the shift brought, valuing the platonic intimacy of their friendship enough to suppress any primitive desires that popped up. Shayne sighed. All that work to preserve their friendship, and now? Now their friendship stood in limbo. Why won't you talk to me?

A faint static sound erupted in his ear, the same noise he heard leading up to him going to that parallel universe. He ignored it.

"Did you want it to happen?" Damien pressed. Shayne ran his tongue across his top teeth, his mind flashing back to Alternate Courtney on his lap. His mind told him 'no', the logical answer to which the bitter taste in his mouth agreed. Giving in to Alternate Courtney would have destroyed him, dismantling his ability to ignore the shift and maintain their comfortable closeness. His body though? His body had betrayed him, responding to her advances. A biological response that had clouded his brain and provoked his body to revolt. He hated it, hated how his body deceived him, how he let it clog his thoughts, how deep down he might have even wanted it. A raw heat burned through him, permeating down his body to settle in his stomach as an involuntary blush washed over his face.

"Oh. My. God. You did!" Damien squealed, jumping from his seat. Why are you such a child sometimes? Shayne wanted to laugh at Damien's over-the-top nature, forget the swirling heat inside and play into Damien's taunting. He craved to have some sense of normalcy back, but letting Damien run with this assumption was dangerous. Shayne opened his mouth, a witty counter on the tip of his tongue."I knew it. You have the hots for Courtney. It is confirmed, all praise the psychic Damien as the God he is!" Damien all but shouted, a shit-eating grin lighting his face as he pointed his finger at Shayne. He knew Damien was playing it up to lighten the mood, trying to egg Shayne on and bring him out of his funk. Any other day, it would have worked. Today, it just hurt his ears. Too loud, Shayne cringed. His booming voice pierced Shayne's eardrums, reawakening the pounding pain in his skull. Shayne fought the urge to cover his ears. His head begged him to, but he denied himself the relief, deeming himself deserving of the pain. She's supposed to be like family.

"Shh! You don't need to shout it to the world!" Shayne scrunched his nose, swallowing another wave of bitterness. "Plus, she's like my sister." The words fell off his lips, a spontaneous utterance that twisted his gut. Can I still call her that? Shayne tossed the thought out, not prepared to handle the complications the question elicited.

"Hey, Selena Gomez once said that about the Biebs." Damien cocked an eyebrow at Shayne.

"Why do you... You know what? Never-mind." Shayne shook his head in amusement, sparking the dull pain in his head to grow into a full-blown headache. Shayne stretched his neck, hoping to temper the pain. "Let's just play Smash," Shayne deflected, his voice distorting in his ear, amplifying his volume to a painful level. He watched Damien's mouth move, but the sound of his heart overwhelmed him, echoing down his ear canal as his peripheral vision pulsed out of focus. Shayne pinched his eyes closed, hoping to stave off this wave of inevitability that threatened to sweep him away.

Static consumed him.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

Numbness drowned out the static, a dry suffocation strangling his senses for a brief moment.

A muffled voice far too nasally to be Damien yet too masculine to be Courtney echoed in his ear. Noah? Shayne turned towards the sound, cracking an eye open to check. An empty couch with no Damien in sight. A shuffling of movement burned his peripheral vision. Shayne clamped his eyes closed.

Something hit his chest.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

Shayne opened his eyes in time to watch a red Switch joy-con slide down his chest and into his lap. What just happened? Shayne blinked, his consciousness settling into place. He darted his eyes around to regain his bearings. His apartment. Damien at the TV setting up the Switch. The voice from before gone. Did I just...? Shayne pressed his lips together and shook his head. It's just the concussion playing tricks on you, he told himself, unable and unwilling to face the implications of the truth.

"Nice catch," Damien said, returning to the couch with the other joy-con in hand. Shayne nodded, his eyes falling to the controller in his hand. He watched the red joy-con shrink until his thumb encompassed over half of the plastic surface. Why did he need this again? Nothing came to mind, his memories shrouded in a thick fog that stifled his recollection. Shayne turned to the TV upon hearing a familiar theme song filter through the room. That's right. We were going to play Smash. After disabling the music, Shayne and Damien rushed into a one-on-one three stock battle.

"But I'm right, aren't I? Why else would you dream-" Damien returned to his interrogation.

"I wouldn't dream that period." Shayne cut him off, trying to K.O. Damien's character in Smash to drive the point home. His fingers failed him, a disconnect between his brain and his hands obstructing his control. "Damn it," Shayne cursed under his breath, watching his character plummet off the map in a pitiful self-K.O..

"Right, and traveling to a parallel universe is way more plausible." Damien quirked an eyebrow without taking his eyes off the TV.

"Yes, actually," Shayne grumbled as he succumbed to button mashing, his large fingers fumbling with the small joy-con buttons. His thumb hit the wrong button, giving Damien another easy K.O. off him. He really needed to invest in some Nintendo Pro Controllers. Next paycheck maybe? Shayne shook his head, focusing on the game. He re-positioned his grip, allowing his mind to zone in on the game and his spiraling thoughts to take the back burner. It didn't last, his hand cramping up mid-game, giving Damien an easy kill and his first win of the day.

"Gotcha! Step it up, Lo-ser." Damien smirked.

"You just got lucky," Shayne groaned as he chose a random map, streamlining the next match and return to the game's distraction.

"All skill, my dude." Damien beamed. "And how is traveling to a parallel world more plausible than a dream?"

"For one, I wasn't the only one. She went there too, you know."

"So, you're both dreaming of each other? Juicy," Damien giggled.

"We're not... It wasn't," Shayne stumbled over his words. "You don't think I didn't think that too? That it was all just a dream?" Shayne scrambled to defend himself. "Because I did. That was the first thing I thought when I woke up in that bathroom for a second time, that it had all just been a dream, but it didn't add up. Nothing added up." Easy. He wanted this conversation to be easy, for Damien to accept his word at face value and believe him. A wish to simplify this complicated mess of his. A wish that would never be granted.

A putrid stench coated his tongue as stomach acid burst into the back of his mouth. Dread washed over him. His vision distorted. The numbness returned. This was never going to be easy.

Static overwhelmed him.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

Shayne swallowed the stomach acid, his vision pulsing back to normal. Through the post-static haze, he saw a blurry silhouette sitting across the couch from him.

"Dude, you and Courtney have got to be more careful," what sounded like Noah's voice scolded him? Noah? scolding me? Shayne pressed his lips together, sucking them into his mouth and biting down on the seam they created. His mind spiraled into confusion, the pressure in his head expanding, pushing on his skull in search of release. Shayne dug his thumbnail into the fleshy tip of his middle finger and focused on the pain.

The static returned.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

"What didn't add up?" Shayne sighed with relief upon hearing Damien's voice. "You dreaming of her in a sexual way?" Damien emphasized the word sexual, eliminating any chance for Shayne to dwell on these mini-visits. Shayne sucked in a breath of air, his mind flashing back to Courtney straddling his lap. Her words played on repeat, a tantalizing implication that flushed his cheeks in a red heat and sparked him to wonder how similar he and Alternate Shayne were. He despised public displays of affection, preferring to keep anything beyond a quick kiss and hand-holding behind closed doors. Fantasizing about hooking up on set landed well outside of his comfort zone. For Alternate Shayne to be into it... Would I do it for Courtney? Shayne bit his tongue, using the pain to stop that train of thought in its tracks. Stop thinking about her like that. He gulped down the self-disgust building in his throat. "Don't lie. Sex dreams are perfectly natural. Plus, the girl's hot." Damien fell into his Douchebag Damien routine, a bit that Shayne both loved and hated. Today, he hated it.

"One. Don't talk about her like that. Don't talk about any girl like that. It's creepy," Shayne barked. "Two. It was what she said we did. Even if I thought of Courtney that way, which I don't, I would never do that."

"Maybe your subconscious has a freaky side." Damien waggled his eyebrows.

Without warning, the static took him.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

"Look, I don't want to kink shame you; we all have a freaky side." Shayne's nerves stood on edge upon hearing Damien's voice distort into Noah's. "But if I walk in on you and Courtney hooking up on set one more time, I swear." Shayne froze. Did he just...? Embarrassment and guilt overwhelmed Shayne despite him having no recollection of the event. "Really? You can fool around on set without issue, but you can't own up to it when called out?"

The burning urge to defend himself erupted in his gut, fighting to overtake his embarrassment. Shayne tried to swallow it down, his nerd instincts telling him to play along with this world's timeline. Answer him, a voice both his and not his echoed from the back of his skull.

"Coward." Noah barked. Shayne's body moved without his consent, his feet planted on the ground as he stood up. Anger coated his tongue, his eyes closing and his mouth opening as his control fell away.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

"I wouldn't fool around on set, okay!" Shayne shouted, his chest heaving with anger.

"What do you mean 'fool around on set'?" Shayne froze upon hearing Damien's voice. Damien? When did he return? His heart twisting in his chest. Did he hear that? Swallowing the dread budding on his tongue, Shayne cracked an eye open. He froze. Even with the distortion pulling on his vision, that was Damien staring up at him. Damien, not Noah. When had he..? Did he just..? How? His thoughts collided, tangling together into an indecipherable mess that sent a fresh wave of nausea pulsating through his body. How was he supposed to explain himself?

Unable to form a proper response, Shayne averted his gaze, watching the space between him and the couch warp before his eyes, stretching and condensing in sporadic bursts. He stayed there for a bit, waiting for the world to stabilize as he rummaged his scattered brain for a response. Stray words and phrases emerged from the wreckage, a jumble of unconvincing lies that a five-year-old would see right through. Shayne sighed, falling back onto the couch.

"That's what she said we did." Shayne dropped his head into his hands. "You know me better than anyone, Damien. So tell me, does that really sound like something I would do?" His anger simmered to a soft murmur. Damien opened his mouth just to close it and shake his head 'no'. "So then, we can both agree that I would never dream that, and I'm either crazy or I traveled to a parallel universe."

"Well, you've always been crazy," Damien joked, a nervous tremor touching his voice. "But I'll bite. You traveled to a parallel universe. Congratulations. Now what?" Damien played along. Shayne blinked. He never considered what he wanted from this conversation. Besides venting, what purpose did telling Damien any of this even serve? Sure, they both watched a lot of anime, some of which contained multiple universes or alternate timelines, but that didn't make them experts.

"You know what?" Shayne sucked in a deep breath of air. "I... I don't know." Shayne wiped his hands down his face, the energy to create a well-thought-out response alluding him. "I didn't really think you'd believe me. Hell, I wouldn't believe me."

"Your lack of trust is flattering, really," Damien teased.

"You know what I mean," Shayne sighed. The confusion and stress of jumping back and forth between realities weighed him down, draining his strength to lie and allowing his mask to slip. "There's still this itch under my skin, like what happens next time? People are gonna notice if I make a habit of passing out." The words fell from his lips, his thoughts skipping passed his mind to spill straight from his mouth.

"Who says it will happen again?"

"It did at Ian's house... And I've been flashing in and out of that world this entire conversation," Shayne confessed. "Like an inevitable promise that sooner or later, I'm going back and won't return." Shayne paused the game and took a deep breath in. "All out of my control."

"It doesn't have to be," Damien responded with a confidence that caught Shayne off guard.

"Huh?" Damien stood, positioning himself in front of Shayne in his 'you-need-more-training' pose. Shayne smiled. For the first time since they arrived, he welcomed Damien's playful nature, Damien's jovial response breathing light into his storm.

"Well, if my anime expertise tells me anything," Damien said in an over-exaggerated tone, "and I am an expert in all things anime, as you know." He pointed at Shayne. "You, my loyal disciple, can learn how to control it."

"Funny." Shayne forced a laugh. Could I really control it? Shayne inspected Damien's face for hints of deception. He found none, just an outpouring of confidence that eased Shayne's mind. If it wasn't for the concussion still clouding his mental faculties, he would have questioned how easily Damien accepted this, how Damien jumped straight to learning how to control it without even a second thought. Instead, Shayne welcomed it with open arms, relishing in his impossible wish coming true.

"But true," Damien corrected him, sitting back down. "Now, I'm not saying it'll be easy. You'll probably pass out at some pretty impromptu times."

"This is all far too surreal," Shayne said, shutting down the Switch. "Do you really think I could control this?"

"I mean, why not? Something has to be causing it to happen, so, theoretically, all we need to do is pinpoint what this something is and then, boom!" Damien clapped his hands together for emphasis. Shayne furrowed his brow. This sounded far too simple to work, but what other choice did he have? "Admittedly, in Anime, the mechanism is usually, incredibly obvious." Shayne glared at Damien who just stifled a nervous laugh. "But that doesn't mean it can't be done," Damien reassured, shrugging his shoulders with a coy smile. "Give me some time. I'm sure I can figure something out to deal with these... what do you want to call it?"

"Glimpses," Shayne blurted out the first word to come to mind. "You know, 'cause it's like a glimpse into another world," Shayne followed up, his reasoning leaving his mouth as he thought it up. "I don't know it's cheesy. Forget it."

"No, I like it." Damien grinned. "We'll call them Glimpses."


	8. Courtney

Courtney stared at her phone, a string of unanswered text messages staring back. All from Shayne. Two weeks worth of worries and apologies desperate for a response. She never intended to ghost him, not for this long at least. It had started with her just needing time to compose herself, to collect her thoughts and get her emotions under control, but that never happened. Instead, her thoughts spiraled out, fear and regret taking root deep within her soul. Even when she had mustered up the courage to write up a response, it just wound up as another forgotten note, her resolve to text caving before she could hit the send button.

It all came back to that night, to her visiting that parallel world, to that one impulsive act. The memory refused to be forgotten, making itself at home in the forefront of her mind, always a constant whisper that kept it vivid and fresh. Closing her eyes, the memory played on repeat, a private movie that extended beyond the confines of images and infiltrated her senses. The way their bodies fit. His weight pressed against her. The taste of his lips. She still felt it despite her best efforts to forget, and her body still responded despite her best efforts to fight it. Sometimes she could ignore it, distracting herself with Jango and releasing her bottled-up frustration at the gym, but it never lasted long, the memory always returning the second she let him cross her mind.

Courtney hated it. Hated how one impulsive act had so much power over her. Hated how just thinking about him sent a fluttering to her stomach and a heat to her cheeks. Hated how even after everything, she still craved the safety of his arms. It boiled in her gut, bubbling into a self-disgust that tainted her every thought.

Desperate to be free of it, Courtney ignored him, hoping that with enough time apart, the memory would fade on its own and normalcy would return. At first, it worked, the lingering ache for him simmering to a lukewarm want after a couple of days of no-contact. It all crashed and burned when she saw him at Ian's house last week. It disgusted her, or rather, she disgusted herself. Just the sight of him had reignited the fire and scorched her with need. Maybe it had been the week of no-contact and self-denial leading up to it, but the fire had burned stronger than it ever had before, heating up to an unbearable level that threatened to overrule her self-control. It had almost succeeded, too, and that scared her more than anything.

It still scared her now. How close she had been to giving into it. How her body had betrayed her, leaning in without her consent. How if Ian hadn't spoken up... Courtney bit her lip until she drew blood. How could she trust herself after this? She shook her head. _I can't, but I can't ghost him forever._

Courtney glared at her thumb as it trembled over her phone's keyboard. Despite her inner conflict, she still owed him a response. Her silence was killing him; she saw it the second he had walked through Ian's front door. The dark circles under his eyes. The listless tone in his voice. The way his face twisted with guilt when she gave him the cold shoulder. He couldn't hide it, and that spoke volumes. Courtney swallowed the anxiety building in her throat. He blamed himself. Of course, he did. He always did. She wanted nothing more than to absolve him of it, to set the record straight and let him know the true culprit behind her silence. That she had been the one to ruin things and not him.

Courtney typed out a response, a hollow apology that skirted around the truth, brushing over his guilt and avoiding her misstep. She lowered her thumb towards the send button, but in the end, she averted course and deleted it. He deserved a heartfelt reply not some shallow text message meant to ease her own worries. Courtney dropped her phone and grabbed a sleepy Jango from the corner of her bed.

"What am I going to do, Jango Boy?" Courtney asked, hugging Jango to her chest. "Maybe you can be my man, hmm?" A sad smile lit her face. Courtney rolled onto her back, taking in the peaceful silence that encased the room. Despite the sun filtering through her window, sleep still pulled on her eyelids, enticing them to close and inviting her to dream the day away. She wanted to accept its invitation, let the day fall away, but the sound of her phone ringing prevented it.

Courtney groaned, fumbling with her phone. _Please don't be Shayne_ , she begged, a whisper of relief licking her ear when she saw it was a text from Olivia. She was on her way over. Fuck. Courtney rushed to reply, hoping to dissuade her friend from visiting but only got an automatic 'do-not-disturb' response. The kind Olivia used when she was driving. Sighing, Courtney forced herself off the bed.

After a quick shower, Courtney threw on a cropped sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, prompting a playful whine from Jango as he zoomed around her room. He anticipated going a walk having figured out early on into training that her getting dressed lead to him going outside.

"Okay, boy," Courtney laughed, "but it's gotta be quick. Olivia's coming over."

Their walk lasted just long enough for Jango to do his business, a brief loop around the neighborhood that left Jango wanting more, which he showed by lying down on the pavement and refusing to move. "Later Jango, we don't have time for this," Courtney groaned, trying to get him to walk across the parking lot of her apartment complex. To her surprise, Jango lunged forward, his ears perking up, his tail wagging a mile a minute, and his eyes fixating on something behind her. Courtney pivoted to look, kissing her teeth upon spotting Olivia at her front door.

For a brief moment, she considered walking away before Olivia saw her. Chalk it up to her not being home in an apologetic text and leave it at that, but what good would that do? What if Olivia waited her out? Then what? Courtney sighed, knowing Olivia would find her one way or another. With a deep breath, she forced a smile on her face and let Jango lead the way.

"Perfect timing!" Courtney squealed as she approached an unaware Olivia.

"EEEK!" Olivia spun on her heel, a warm smile on her lips as she welcomed Courtney into her arms. "Stalker much?" Olivia laughed.

"Me? You're the one showing up out of the blue," Courtney countered as Jango wiggled his way into their hug.

"Touché." Olivia bent down to give the pooch some smooches.

"About that," Courtney started, ushering Olivia inside, "I don't mean to be rude, but why the surprise visit?" Deep down she knew that her week of isolation warranted a home visit. Playing dumb just sounded easier than confessing to her faults.

"You need to text Shayne back, he's worried. I'm worried," Olivia answered.

"Shayne told you?" Annoyance gripped Courtney's shoulders, its anger coated claws piercing through her skin. _I don't have time for this, so fess up or get out,_ the anger tainted her thoughts, slithering through her veins and infiltrating her body with a restless energy desperate for release. Courtney refused it, her muscles trembling as she forced her body to stay still.

"Not exactly." Olivia bent down to play with Jango, squeezing his cheeks as she stuck her tongue out at him. Jango returned the favor, lapping at the air as he failed to kiss her. "Shayne told Damien who told me."

"Great," Courtney huffed, "What else did Damien say?" _Did Shayne tell him about the parallel universe? About our Alternate selves? Who else did Damien tell?_ She trusted Olivia not to spill, what with her being her closest girlfriend after all, but what if he told the others? They already teased her enough about Shayne as it stood. If they even caught word of it being real, even just a rumor... Fear chilled her spine. The consequences of such a rumor terrified her. Her job. Her on-camera persona. Her friendship with Shayne even. All of it stood in the line of fire.

"Does it matter?" Olivia waddled into Courtney's kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge. "Want one?" Courtney shook her head 'no', placing her phone on the coffee table before flopping onto the couch. Jango settled between Courtney and the armrest.

"I mean, yah," Courtney exclaimed, "if Damien is blowing up all these rumors about me and Shayne, I'd kinda like to know."

"Girl, chill. This is Damien we're talking about." Olivia plopped down next to Courtney. "He's just worried about Shayne. The guy's worried sick about you." There it was. The confirmation that she needed but didn't want. _I didn't mean to_ , she whispered to herself, the seeds of guilt budding in her stomach. They drained her, drinking in her emotions in until short stems sprouted and roots took hold. She never intended to hurt him though she knew that ghosting would. She just pretended not to, lying to herself to quell the storm inside. She just wanted to feel normal, to feel in control again. A thick film of saliva coated her tongue as a familiar nausea crept in. "He asked if I could check in on you, for Shayne's sake." Olivia's words hit a nerve, reawakening the remnants of anger still lingering in her veins.

"Why? So you can report back to him that I'm a frickin' mess?" Courtney hissed.

"Do you really think I would do that?" Olivia bit back.

"No." Courtney bowed her head. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed; I guess."

"Really? I couldn't tell." Olivia rolled her eyes. "So tell me, what's going on?"

"Everything and nothing," Courtney breathed out. "Between the shutdown and..." Courtney trailed off. _Do I tell her?_ The thought bounced off her skull, colliding into itself over and over until it lost all meaning. Just words that elicited the sense of betrayal. To tell Olivia when she denied Shayne, it soured her tongue. No. If she decided to speak, Shayne deserved to be the first to know.

"And what?" Olivia prodded. "I saw you two slip away the night we got fired. Don't tell me you got drunk and..."

"No! God no!" Courtney waved Olivia off with both hands. Olivia pushed her hand aside and leaned in, her face inches from Courtney's, her eyes emitting an intimidating focus as she inspected Courtney's face. Courtney thinned her lips into a flat line and quieted her eyes in a shaky attempt to appear indifferent.

"I don't believe you." Courtney's stomach twisted. Olivia always had a knack for throwing people off-kilter what with her bizarre sense of humor and her habit of pushing boundaries that no one knew existed. Not to mention Olivia's ability to make even the most innocuous statements sound threatening. Though Courtney had built up an immunity to it over the years, her diminished inhibitions left her compromised.

"We didn't... you know," Courtney caved to Olivia's soul-piercing stare, her voice trailing off to a whisper. "We just... Almost... kissed."

"I knew it!" Olivia clapped her hands together.

"Don't act too excited now," Courtney groaned, watching Olivia take a sip of her soda to hide her smile.

"Forgive me, but Shartney almost happened, and," Olivia stifled a squeal, "how can I not be giddy?"

"Key word almost," Courtney spat back. "It didn't, and it's not going to." Courtney pressed her lips together, willing the emotional storm whipping around her stomach to quiet. It rampaged against her effort, scraping at her insides with the threat of surfacing. Her throat stiffened in reciprocation, a faulty barrier she hoped would last long enough for her to escape this conversation without giving her true feelings away.

"Then why are you avoiding him?" Courtney scavenged her brain for something to satisfy Olivia's curiosity and end the conversation. Though she aimed to avoid the truth and dodge the memory's attempt to kiss her lips, it still found a way, hitching a ride on what she unearthed until it slithered across her tongue. Courtney clamped her mouth shut and bowed her head. "OH. MY. GOD. YOU WANT TO FUCK SHAYNE TOPP!" Olivia shrieked. _Am I really that bad at hiding?_

"NO. Absolutely not!" Courtney shoved Olivia's shoulder, disappointment slinking down her throat when Olivia didn't fall off the couch. She expected a torrent of excuses to fill her mouth, for denial to rear its head and be heard. Instead, a numbness washed over her. _Stop denying yourself_ , a voice both hers and not hers demanded. Courtney ignored it. She never was one to listen to her own advice.

"C'mon, we've all seen how you look at him." Courtney shot Olivia a disproving look. "What? You two have been dancing around each other since you broke up with Wahlid."

"No, we haven't..."

"Give it up, sister." Olivia snapped her fingers for emphasis. "Just because you're blind to it, doesn't mean we are." Courtney wanted to laugh, enjoying this fabulous drama queen routine that Olivia had going on, but the weight of their conversation prevented it. Her back caved under the burden, her muscles straining for release, for her to drop this act so that they could breathe.

"Fine. You win. Happy now?" Courtney huffed. Olivia beamed back at her, a brief happiness that faltered into a serious contemplation.

"Is that why you won't talk to him?"

"I don't trust myself, okay?" Courtney admitted. "I look at him, and..." Courtney stopped herself to take a deep breath in. "You saw it, didn't you? At Ian's house. I nearly kissed him. My body just started to lean in on its own accord as if it had a mind of its own. If Ian hadn't spoken up..." Courtney shook her head and sighed. "It's better if I stay away. At least until I can get ahold of myself."

"And what if you can't?" _That's what I'm afraid of,_ Courtney dropped her gaze, her anxiety taking control of her fingers that now picked at her jeans.

"I just need a little more time. That's all." She lied to herself.

"It's been two weeks, Courtney," Olivia called her out. "At least text him."

"I want to. I do." Courtney bowed her head. "But after ghosting him for so long, it kinda feels wrong to just gloss over it with a text, you know? What do I say? Sorry, I'm a bitch who ghosts. Let's be friends again?" Courtney scoffed.

"Or you could be an adult and talk to him in person," Olivia suggested.

"Slow down there, girl. I didn't even agree to text him." Courtney held her hands up as if to stop Olivia from continuing.

"What if we invited him to shoot a video with us?" Olivia asked, ignoring Courtney's protest. "I'd be there to stop you from doing anything crazy, and we'd get some content for our personal channels as a bonus. It's win-win."

"For you, maybe," Courtney said.

"So it's settled then." A devious smirk sparked Olivia's face as she snatched Courtney's phone from the coffee table. With no time to waste, Courtney threw herself at Olivia, wrestling her for her phone in a flailing mess of limbs that landed Courtney on the ground and empty-handed.

"I don't get a choice in this, do I?" Courtney sighed, dropping her head back onto the couch.

"Nope." Olivia smirked, her fingers typing a mile a minute. "Wednesday the 5th at 11 AM, at your place sound good?" Courtney just nodded, too overwhelmed to stop her. "And sent." Olivia handed Courtney her phone back. Courtney stared at the text, a wave of panic washing over her.

Courtney: Hey Shayne. Sorry for the ghost, but I've had a lot on my mind after everything. Are you free to meet at my place on the 5th? Around 11 in the morning maybe? We could shoot a few vids for our personal channels and catch up? 

Courtney opened her mouth to chastise Olivia, but before she could speak, her phone buzzed, alerting her to Shayne's reply. _Well, that was unusually fast,_ Courtney mused, another rush of anxiety piling up in her gut.

Shayne: Just happy to hear from you, honestly. You had me worried. :/ But the 5th at 11 AM sounds great. I'll see you there. 

"I guess it's settled then." Olivia grinned.


	9. Courtney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Self-Harm

  
"I can't believe her," Courtney mumbled as she read and reread Shayne's text. Olivia had departed not too long ago, saying goodbye with a kiss on the cheek before scampering away to get ready for her date with Sam. Courtney almost wished she had stayed, afraid to be alone with her rampaging thoughts. Afraid of backing out their plans without any supervision to stop her. Even now, her thumbs hovered over her phone's keyboard, her mind sprinting through an itinerary of excuses. Her favorites revolved around blaming Olivia, keeping herself honest while preserving a facade of innocence. It wouldn't take the sting away, but it would lessen the blow. _You've hurt him enough,_ she scolded herself though her thumbs still scurried across the screen. Before her fingers could conclude their dance, her phone buzzed.

Shayne: If you need anything, I'm here for you. <3

Courtney zoned in on the heart emoji, the crisp red symbol jumping from the screen. His finger slipped or his phone's predictive text misfired. Something to explain the heart away before it snaked behind her eyes and found purchase in 'what if's. Shayne chose his words with a careful precision, his record of accidental texts the lowest of the squad, so for him to use a heart emoji... A weighted ball nested in the juncture between her collar bones, smothering each breath in and poisoning each breath out. The couch expanded beneath her, and her body shrank to compensate, her eyes reverting to her unsent message waiting to destroy him. The urge to hit send pricked the tips of her fingers, a token of her selfish cruelty.

"I can't do this." Courtney clamped her hand over her mouth, tears latching on to her eyelashes. With trembling hands, she erased her rejection, each deleted letter adding to the weight strangling her throat. _It's for the best,_ a truth masquerading as a lie. The sooner she confronted him, the sooner the world stabilized, and they returned to normal. Wishful thinking sugarcoated her denial. Normal had abandoned the realm of possibilities long ago, and that heart emoji proved it. Its implication, imagined or otherwise, proved it _. I don't deserve it._

A stifled sob echoed off the walls, the world shattering. It screamed at her. The once inaudible traffic roared in her ears. The quiet hum of her A/C shrieked. The dull light of her lamp cut her eyes. The soft fabric of her pants burned her fingertips. Every sense on edge, drowning in overload. A desperate cry for silence sliced through her lips and down her body, manipulating her legs until she stood. Quaking with shallow breaths. Her heart dancing in her throat. The walls pulsated around her, paint seeping to the floor. Courtney willed her legs to move, two anchors locking her in place. She dragged them to the kitchen, desperate to silence her fraying nerves.

Courtney fumbled with a bottle of wine, the bottom scraping against her lower cabinet as she pulled it out. A housewarming gift from her parents she had been saving for a special occasion. Now. With the panic whipping through her brain and the world attacking from all sides, it served another purpose.

Drinking alone never appealed to her on her best days, and even on her worst, its call never amounted to more than a whisper. Today, it screamed its invitation, and she listened.

The liquid kissed her throat, a crisp heat swirling in her stomach and diffusing through her veins. It smothered her nerves, tending to their tattered edges until the world faded to a dull haze. Too fast to be the alcohol kicking. A placebo effect. Courtney latching on to its promise to mend. She stumbled back to the couch and turned the TV on, immediately lowering the volume to a tolerable level. Jango rested his head on her leg as she flipped through channel after channel until she settled for some re-runs of Futurama. Ironically, it was the episode in which Leela is sucked into a parallel universe where she and Fry are married. She should have turned it off, the premise far too close for comfort, but her eyes refused to look away; her hand refused to change the channel.

Courtney took a large gulp of wine. _Parallel universes, who woulda thought?_ Courtney mused. A familiar static hummed in her ear, taking her back to that night, to the moments leading up to her visit. _Is it happening again?_ Courtney shook her head, and the static faded to the background, a constant hum easily ignored. She grasped at the waning belief that it wouldn't happen again, holding on tight to make a second visit impossible. Plunging headfirst into a shallow denial, Courtney crashed into truth before delusion set in. She couldn't deny Shayne's second visit. She witnessed it herself, watching him faint to the ground and seeing his silent confirmation when he woke. If it happened to him... Courtney shivered, the static hum scraping down her spine. A plan. She needed a plan. If she was going to return, she could at least confirm once and for all that it was a parallel universe and not just a figment of her imagination. _Well, they say to pinch yourself to check if you're dreaming, so maybe something along those lines?_

——

One bottle of wine later saw her feet tripping over themselves as she staggered into the kitchen. By now, Jango had retired to her bedroom, smart enough not to get caught up in her mess.

The static screamed in her ear, a painful promise of her return. A promise that she had no intention of breaking. Desperate to put her plan into action, she willed the static to take her, but it denied her, its hooks not strong enough to hold her weight. Against her better judgment, she opened another bottle, ready to welcome the static with open arms. _I was way drunker the first time, right?_ She forced a laugh, downing the bottle until the room spun around her, and her thoughts fell away, leaving just the suffocating static to remain. It strangled the air around her, clinging to her senses as she waddled back to the couch. She collapsed, the world disappearing beneath her feet.

She plummeted into darkness.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


The shift stunned, a vibrating numbness engulfing her senses as her consciousness linked back up with a physical form. For a brief moment, she felt an echo, a bizarre overlap of bodies, the sensation of having four arms and four legs. Two bodies, one physical and one ethereal, combining as her consciousness settled in her skull. Courtney clamped her eyes shut tight and counted to three before cracking them open just enough to see that a familiar blurriness.

Courtney groaned, though no sound left her mouth, her bodily control still syncing with her brain. _I'm back._ She felt it her gut, the disconnect between mind and body, the disorientation whipping the world around her into chaos. She hated it, wishing the world would stabilize faster, that the disconnect would disappear for good. She expected the transition to be easier the second time, her body adjusting after her last visit even just a little, but this suffocated her just as before.

Courtney filled her lungs until air escaped to her head and washed over her eyes. She forced her eyes open despite her body's soft protests. To her surprise, the cloudy film obscuring her vision retreated almost instantaneously, but with it leaving, the gates withholding her senses opened. Bright lights. The deafening roar of traffic. An electric hum. A cacophony of sensory input that shocked her system back into darkness. Everything stopped. Her heart. Her breathing. Her senses. Total sensory deprivation pinned her to the floor, punishing her for running when she needed to walk. A moment passed before a faint electrical hum filtered through her ears.

Courtney gasped, her breath returning and senses settling into place. She opened her eyes, slow and cautious, a few millimeters at a time, not wanting to dive back into sensory hell.

The familiar interior of her apartment living room greeted her, and at first glance, nothing seemed out of place. The TV sat on the wall where she left it though it was now turned off. The coffee table seemed normal enough minus an unfamiliar scented candle. The couch was the same. _That's strange_ , she thought as her eyes fell to the small shelving unit underneath the TV. A Switch along with a variety of vintage game consoles scattered the shelves. The only console she owned was a PS4. Shayne owned the others. She remembered seeing them in his apartment. _Why would those be here?_ Courtney wondered as she struggled to her feet, stumbling over herself as her muscular control stabilized.

She wobbled to the kitchen, noting the tubs of cherry tomatoes and a second phone charger on the kitchen island. Were her and Shayne living together? Courtney searched every cabinet and drawer for any evidence that backed her theory. Her kitchen overflowed with items that screamed Shayne. Things she would never buy herself. Things she didn't need. Things like the oversized tub of protein powder sitting on the kitchen counter. Even in a parallel universe, there was no way Courtney would require such a large tub. She didn't even like the stuff. As she finished her search, a frown tugged on her face. No dog food. No dog bowls. Nothing. All these signs of Shayne, and no sign of Jango.

"Jango!" Courtney called for him, praying to hear the sound of his paws pounding against her hardwood floors. It never came. Her empty apartment expanded around her. Alone. Even if Alternate Courtney lived with Alternate Shayne, he wasn't there. Just her. The silence echoed, and loneliness screamed. She wasn't used to being without Jango. Why though? Why didn't she adopt Jango? Courtney stared at where Jango's food bowl should be and let the emptiness swallow her. She stayed that way for what felt like ages, her mind too fragile to process Jango's absence. A trance broken only when that familiar static tickled her ear, reminding her of the temporary nature of this visit and the plan she still needed to carry out.

Courtney sulked off to her room, a surreal silence stifling the air around her. She hated what she was about to do, but she failed to see a way around it. Her attempts to brainstorm came up short, either circling back to her current plan or spiraling out into something far beyond the realm of possibility. She blamed the alcohol clouding her thoughts, but in truth, she just needed another soul to bounce ideas off. _Someone like Shayne._ Courtney stopped midway down the hall. _If he knew what I was about to do..._ Just the thought of his disapproval sent a burning chill twisting around her spine. A contradiction that pulled her two ways. On one end, it begged for her to wait, to set aside her plan until she had his approval. On the other end, it pressed the question of why she needed his approval in the first place. _It wouldn't be so weird if you were dating_ , a voice chimed in, _couples make decisions like this together, right?_

Courtney clenched her fist, holding back the urge to punch the wall. To even think such a thing. No. She needed to stop thinking and push forward. They weren't dating. His approval didn't matter. No one's approval mattered. Just hers. Courtney continued down the hallway until she reached the door to her room. She reached her hand to it, her palm flattening against the painted wood. A part of her hoped to find Shayne tucked into bed, waiting for her. It ached for his comfort. It ached to return to the safety she felt in that closet. Another part prayed that he wasn't, knowing her strength to keep away no longer existed. Courtney dropped her forehead to the door and took a deep breath in. _You can do this,_ she wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and pushed.

Disappointment and relief combined into one when the door creaked open to reveal a room void of life. Just their belongings. All tucked into place, a level of organization that screamed of Shayne. The only sign of life came from the folded laundry sitting on their unmade bed. Courtney dragged herself into her room. No. Their room. It was clearly their room. Paintings and framed photographs she last saw hanging in his apartment now resided on her walls. Framed photos of them together sat on top of her desk, their smiles wide as ever. A picture-perfect couple.

Courtney turned to their closet, sliding the door open to reveal it split in half, one side hers and the other his. A line of shoes sat on the bottom, the size difference creating a clear line between which were hers and which were his. Courtney pulled a sad smile. _Perfect. We could be perfect._ Courtney closed the closet, turning around to lean her back against it. They lasted, and somehow knowing that stung even more. Pushing off the closet, Courtney stretched her arms over her head, preventing herself from lingering on her findings. The mission came first.

Courtney scavenged her room for anything with a blade, something sharp enough to leave a mark. _This won't work. It shouldn't work,_ she ignored the pestering voice nagging at the back of her brain. Deep down she knew it was right. Faults littered her plan, little things her drunken brain glossed over at the time but now fizzled up to hide behind denial. Things like how they appeared to leave their bodies behind when they visited the parallel world, but now that she stood there amongst their belongings, determined to put this heartbreak to good use, she refused to let her rationale brain win. It seemed pointless not to try; after all, maybe their bodies swapped instantaneously, a switch to quick for the eye to perceive. _Yes, that's it_ , she told herself, falling victim to her denial fueled lies.

Courtney stopped at the desk by the window and opened the draw. A sundry of small knick-knacks and junk, pins, patches, innocuous items shoved into it for safekeeping. Rifling around, she managed to find a pair of scissors. The metal screeched as she opened them, inspecting the two blades before pressing her finger down onto what seemed to be the sharper of the two. Flesh squished around it, skin stretching to accommodate the blade without breaking. Too dull to leave a mark. Courtney sighed. Her plan required something sharper. Courtney placed the scissors on her bed and decided to take her hunt into the bathroom.

Two toothbrushes stood in a cup on the sink. Her shampoo and conditioner sat next to his on the shower shelves, more indicators of their symbiotic life together. A sharp pain twisted her stomach, the wish for this to be her reality sprouting in her gut. She ignored it, kneeling to scavenge the cabinet underneath the sink. An unopened package of disposable razors. _This could work,_ Courtney mused, taking the package back to the bedroom. She struggled to open the thick, plastic packaging, the dull scissors fighting her along the way until she surrendered to ripping it open with her hands. A poor decision that sent the razors bursting over the bed. After gathering them into a pile, she singled one out for a closer inspection.

Courtney groaned. Despite being the cheap one-blade shaving razors found in a gas station, the actual blade sat securely in its holder with no clear means to remove it. _Useless_ , Courtney shoved the remaining razors to the side, some falling to the floor. Courtney bent down to pick them up and, in the process, spied a box of art supplies tucked under the bed. It contained the usual stuff, a few sketch pads filled with aimless doodles, boxes of color pencils and markers all missing a few colors. A small pencil bag held the true treasure, a small handheld pencil sharpener. A single screw held the blade in place. The dull scissors blade made for a poor makeshift screwdriver, the thick metal struggling to stick into the slotted screw. Her shaky hands increased the difficulty, the blade losing its grips and shooting off the screw quite a few times. Eventually, though, the screw popped off, and the singular razor blade toppled out.

Courtney plucked the blade off the bed, holding it between her thumb and pointer finger. _Now or never,_ she swallowed, her resolve setting in and her doubts shriveling up. She lifted her shirt and brought the blade to where her ribcage tapered off. A place high enough on her stomach that a well-cut crop top would still cover it. With a deep breath in, Courtney steadied her hand and pressed the blade into her skin.

One cut. A useless act that she justified through lies. _If it's still there when I wake up, then this isn't just a dream._


	10. Shayne

A mistake. Accepting her invitation had been a mistake. The tangle in his gut, the ache snapping at his heel. After their weeks apart, seeing Courtney affected him in ways he had never considered. The storm whipping through his stomach and tattering his self-control only skimmed the surface. He mended the frayed edges, for now, stitching the shredded remnants of his inhibitions, but the swelling in his gut predicted it unraveling sooner or later. It was just a circumstance of time.

Shayne pressed his cheek against the backseat window of Olivia's SUV, basking in the scalding heat of the afternoon sun. It provided a welcomed distraction from the dead silence smothering the air. The stench of stale McDonald's fries and ketchup saturated the car's black interior. The leftover remnants of the video they had just finished taping. Olivia had persuaded them into trying every item on the McDonald's Dollar Menu. An idea Shayne had shrugged off as benign at the time but now lamented, the fast-food playing with fire inside his stomach. For now, he forgot himself in the blur of gray and green streaking across the window, his eyes stealing glances at Courtney in the passenger seat. Her knees tucked to her chest while she watched Olivia drive. A poignant smile stretched his lips.

When Shayne had accepted Courtney's invitation, he never foresaw it extending beyond himself. Never expected for Olivia to join them. A foolish assumption conceived out of naivety. A product of her text deluding him with the promise of reconciliation. Two days he spent funneling his energy into that promise, fortifying his mask and stabilizing his emotional frame. Preparations that deserted him the moment he had arrived at her apartment, the reality of seeing Courtney for the first time in weeks setting in.

Thirteen minutes. Thirteen minutes with his hands bolted to the steering wheel and his legs anchored to the seat. Thirteen minutes scraping up the willpower to march across that parking lot and knock on her door. Thirteens minutes laid to waste upon observing Olivia pull up and walk right in. It had hobbled him, kicking the wind from his lungs until he shriveled into himself. In some ways, he owed Olivia, her presence knocking him out of his trance and freeing him from the confines of his car. Now though? Now he craved her departure, desperate to release the pressure building in his chest.

Without removing his head from the window, Shayne rolled his shoulders, displacing the tension ascending his neck to the center of his back. Though it demanded to happen, facing Courtney terrified him. Since arriving, his interactions with her had amounted to little more than fluff. Light-hearted banter forced for the camera. Any off-screen exchanges hollow, her words strapped with a bitter coldness that penetrated his ears. He stomached it for the sake of keeping face, warning himself not to take it personally. She had her own struggles gnawing at her heels. Lies determined to stop the blame from slithering in. Lies he acknowledged could be true but had no means of verifying, not without risking his fears and opening an honest dialogue with Courtney. Alone.

Shayne reached over to scratch Jango behind the ear, eyes focused on the blur of motion streaming across the window. Alone. They hadn't been alone since that night at Defy. Since their friendship dissolved and started to resemble something closer to acquaintanceship in appearance. Shayne ran his tongue behind his teeth. In truth, his affections for her had bloomed into something far more intimate than 'just friends'. A development birthed from weeks of dwelling on their friendship and his memories. Exploring his feelings still remained off-limits, Shayne burying them before they gathered momentum, yet they still lingered. A constant tugging in his heart whenever she wandered into his thoughts. He had tried his best to focus on his second Glimpse, formulating a plan to convince Alternate Ian into hiring Alternate Damien, yet one way or another she found purchase in his head. His eyes meandered back to Courtney who now leaned against the passenger side window.

Sunlight danced across her blonde hair, washing over her profile and kissing her cheeks. Peaceful, the stress from earlier nowhere to be found. He wished it would persist, yearning to retreat to a time before this tension existed. Courtney shifting in her seat cued him to look away, but he disregarded it, enabling their eyes to meet. He shot her a smile, hoping for her to return it. Instead, fear darted across her eyes. His stomach sank, his smile curling into a scowl. Courtney scrunched her face and twisted away, an action suspended midway through, her hand rushing to her side and her body crumpling over.

"Fuck!" Courtney said, pain biting her voice. Wrinkles creased her eyes. The edges of her mouth wrenched tight. Explicit signs of pain that throttled Shayne's intestines.

"Are you-"

"Fine. Just fine. I overdid it at the gym, that's all." A wince distorted Courtney's face as she shifted back to the window. A lie. No amount of overdoing it at the gym caused that.

"It doesn't..."

"She said she's fine, Shayne." Olivia caught his eyes in the rearview mirror, concern softening her expression. _It's not the time, I get it_ , he nodded, his head slumping onto the window. He pocketed the topic for later, appending it to the list of things they needed to address. Shayne sighed, _if you'll even let us talk_. A fear that inched closer and closer to the truth the longer this car ride persisted. At least, it felt that way. Shayne pushed air through his nose. No. Whether or not she desired to talk, it needed to happen. Getting his Glimpses under control remained the top priority, his grip on reality, his sense of self slipping away. He felt it. When Courtney didn't plague his thoughts, the parallel universe consumed him, suffocating his senses as if a part of him remained there. Its hold on him paralyzed, a blistering appeal for his return with a guarantee of never leaving. Coaxing her to work with him and Damien needed to happen at all cost.

Convincing her, however, loomed over his head, a daunting task intimidating him into silence. Two days. He had wasted the last two days preparing for this, scripting out various scenarios and dialogues so his voice wouldn't falter when the time came. Now, with the chill freezing her words and the brutality in her eyes, it wasn't enough. Never enough. Nothing ever was. Something of this capacity needed to be perfect. He recognized this, yet despite his countless rehearsals and subsequent adjustments, the speech he primed screamed unpolished. The urge to scrap it and start over stung his veins though he refused to oblige it. The car screeched to a halt as Olivia parked a block away from Courtney's apartment.

"Shayne," Courtney said as she unbuckled her seatbelt and pivoted to face him. Olivia turned the car off and slipped out without a word. She waited on the sidewalk, fumbling with her phone just out of earshot. _Now's my chance._ Hope sparked his eyes at the prospect of Courtney initiating the discussion. "Do you mind waiting back there for a second while I get Jango situated? I don't want him scratching the seat trying to rush out past you." Shayne's heart plummeted, descending to his stomach to accumulate on top of the half-digested fast food weighing it down. Shayne cracked a weak smile and agreed.

Courtney shot him a sickening smile as she retrieved an overeager Jango and scurried to Olivia's side. Despite her snubbing him being a constant factor these last few weeks, it still hurt, more so now that it ventured into their in-person interaction. Ghosting, while it mangled his composure at times, he tolerated it with enough ease to carry on. This. This in-person avoidance ravaged him, whittling away at his already damaged mask. Shayne wrapped his fingers around the slim metal door handle. He held it there, witnessing Courtney and Olivia fall into what appeared to be an easy conversation.

His stomach churned, spotting Courtney double over in laughter. Pain obstructed her midway, a subtle wince contorting her face. Her hand jerked up to clutch her side. The compulsion to barge out and tend to her, to drape an arm around her and play the medic swelled in his chest. It expanded through his extremities to an intensity he struggled to overlook. Though his protective nature was nothing new, it still surprised him. It had never progressed to this level before, not for her. For his ex, maybe, but not for her. This level? It straddled the line of being possessive. He shivered, swallowing the urge. It adhered to his throat, resisting his efforts to neglect it. Shayne yanked his hand from the doorknob, not trusting his ability to deny it.

He waited for the urge to simmer out and fade, watching Courtney and Olivia lose themselves in gossip. Neither bothered to peep his way. The car expanded and the world disappeared until he became invisible. A face in the window, an outsider peering in. A speck of dust left unnoticed. _Do you know I'm still here?_ Bitterness tainted his mouth. Shayne dragged his tongue across the back of his teeth, acknowledging his misstep in deciding to remain. He preferred the protective surge over this new spiral grasping him. With a deep breath in, Shayne grabbed the door handle once again, his hand trembling, his confidence shot. He needed to stay positive, to stay present. Dwelling on the tension, on her cold shoulder, on his body's unusual reactions, it only made things worse.  
  
  
  
  
  


Vanilla and the faintest hint of wine wafted over Shayne as he entered her apartment. An unfamiliar combination. The last time he was over, citrus and coffee had choked the air. The vanilla piqued his curiosity but neglected to concern him. The hint of wine puzzled him. _Has she been drinking?_ Shayne wondered as he untied his shoes and arranged them next to Olivia's. Straightening up, Shayne searched the small living room and attached kitchen, noting the few unlit scented candles which explained the vanilla filtering through the air. _Those are new._ With his poor sense of smell, where the wine emanated from alluded him. He presumed the kitchen, but without seeing a bottle or a corkscrew, confirming it left the realms of possibility. For all he knew, it was a product of his imagination or just him confusing it with a different scent. Shayne strained his neck and dispersed from the doorway.

Instead of joining Olivia and Jango on the couch, Shayne wandered towards Courtney's bedroom, having observed her rush to it when the first entered. Apparently, the next video required a certain item, one buried in the depths of her closet.

Nearing her room - her door ajar and light on - he overheard a sporadic thumping, which he assumed to be Courtney chucking items against the wall. He chuckled though worry bubbled in his abdomen. Though an unprepared Courtney wasn't unusual, it still landed on the outskirts of normal. _Normal doesn't exist anymore,_ Shayne reminded himself. Rolling his shoulder back, Shayne popped his head in, spotting Courtney on her knees in front of her open closet. A clutter of clothes, accessories and random bits scattered the floor around her. Several stray items sprinkled the perimeter of the room, evidence of her launching them every which way. Shayne rapped on the doorframe.

"Jesus," Courtney gasped, her body jumping, hands flying to her chest. The box in her hands crashed to the ground, vintage soda bottles spilling across the carpet. She spun to face him, a pout puckering her lips, eyes wide with a confused anger. Shayne pressed his lips together, striving to repress a smile and stifle a laugh. Scaring Courtney was rare, her tendencies to be on high alert and suspicious nature made sneaking up on her a difficult feat and pranking her near impossible. To succeed with such ease and then bear witness to her reaction, it proved far more amusing then it ought to. Shayne snorted into laughter, his amusement too much to contain. "Really, Shayne?" Courtney straightened her lips into a poker face. A false display that faltered, a micro-smile playing at the edges of her lips.

"Need some help?" Shayne grinned, leaning against the door frame. He knew the answer before he asked, but it seemed appropriate, a good excuse for not settling on the couch with Olivia. It sounded wrong. He shouldn't require an excuse to talk to someone he considered his best friend. _Are we even still friends?_ His heart clenched, his desire to talk, to keep her company while she searched seemed pathetic now. With the unstable state of their friendship and her clear attempts at avoiding him, it was absurd to think that privilege still applied to him.

"I got it, thank you though. You can go wait with Olivia. I'll be right there." Courtney's robotic response chilled the air. Her face twisted with discomfort before she redirected back to her search. _Am I making you uncomfortable?_ Shayne bowed his head. Blame secured itself to her display of distress and piled onto his back. His fault. All his fault. Thinking otherwise was just him gaslighting himself. It had to be that. Him just fooling himself into contentment when he deserved the gut-wrenching despair that now flooded over him. He needed to leave before he induced any more anguish.

"I was actually hoping we could talk." The words emptied from his mouth without his consent, overpowering the worry of agitating her. Alone. Alone together. His emerging feelings for her sprouted to fight his despair, a puzzling contradiction that tensed his muscles. The initial want to discuss Damien's plan warped into the frantic craving to plead for her forgiveness. Shayne clamped his hand over his mouth to avoid another outburst.

"Can it wait?" Courtney returned to rifling through her closet. Another box sailed across the room. Shayne let out a sad laugh, his eyes falling to Courtney's back. The pressure in his skull evaporated with her eyes no longer boring holes in his stomach. He should have relished the relief, and yet his feet marched forwards and his hand reached out for her, all against his will.

"Uh, yeah, sure." He stifled his ache for her attention, stopping himself from closing the distance and, instead, flopping down onto her bed. He shoved his hands underneath himself just in case. Pathetic. His self-control dissipating the second they shared a room. _What am I? 12?_

"That means leave," Courtney said. Shayne wiped his hand over his face and attempted to stand up. While his desire to appease Courtney outweighed his discomfort - at least he wanted it to be that way - his body refused, his legs increasing in weight to anchor him in place. Shayne swallowed, realizing his mistake of being alone together. His body had glued himself to the excitement of being near her. It ached in his core, a swollen heat that eliminated his previous worries. An ache foreign to his self-image that he figured would belong to Alternate Shayne.

"I was just hoping..." He spoke up, feeling the need to justify himself.

"Found it!" Courtney shrieked, holding a Wheat Thins box above her head as she stood up. The word 'important' marked the box, written diagonally across the box in thick, black sharpie. Shayne forced himself to his feet, a weak smile touching his mouth as he watched her clutch the box to her chest and bounce in place. The ache rose to a boil. Its unfamiliarity striking the chords of fear. Shayne bit his lip, driving his eyes from her and to the box in her hands. With a deep breath in, he willed the ache back down to a light simmer, chalking it up to nerves. 

_You want her though, don't you?_ A voice asked. He denied it.

"What's so important about a box of Wheat Thins?"

"You'll see." Courtney stuck her tongue out at him before dashing away. Shayne chortled, pushing his hair back before following her.


	11. Shayne

The heavy thumping of footfalls echoed through Courtney's apartment as Shayne trudged towards her living room. He hesitated at the threshold, requiring a moment to compose himself. His eyes scanned the small apartment and settled on Courtney's back. Straining his neck, he caught sight of her hands fumbling with her iPhone and a tripod. A slight smirk crisped his lips, warmth pervading his chest. With a deep breath in, he forced his eyes away from her to where Olivia and Jango still shared the couch. Jango now encroached on Olivia's space, his nose poking her thigh, and his body sprawled across the entire length. Another smile gripped his lips, though the heat remained absent.

Inhaling, Shayne started towards the couch but diverted course midway, curiosity bidding him to investigate the yellow Wheat Thins box resting on the coffee table.

"Don't," Courtney spat, twisting to face him just as his hand extended to grasp it. With an apologetic nod, he withdrew his hand and floundered towards the couch. A faint simper touched his lips as he stooped to scratch a groggy Jango behind the ear.

"Jango, buddy," he cooed. Jango licked his nose before shaking off Shayne's hand. Shayne chuckled as the pup slowly rose, stretching out his legs before leaping off the couch. The pup scampered off to paw at Courtney still fighting with the tripod. Lowering himself onto the couch's other corner, Shayne held his body stiff - arms tucked into his torso, legs squared and back straight - striving to create enough space for Courtney without them bumping knees.

"Any luck?" Olivia's eyes lifted from her phone, her voice soft enough not to leave the confines of the sofa. Shayne pulled a straight-lined smiled and shook his head. Olivia pouted. "She'll come around. Just give it time." _But I don't have time_ , his mouth opened but no words came out. _Don't worry her with this._ Olivia pitched in until her breath brushed his right ear, her hand raising to block her mouth. "She's just being stubborn." A brash whisper emphasized for dramatic effect. Shayne rolled his eyes. A tangle in his stomach told him this was more than just stubbornness. The front she showed him. Her cold covered lies. A mask born out of fear that paralleled his own.

"Alright, and we're filming." Courtney clapped her hands together, jarring Shayne from his thoughts. He followed her as she grabbed the box of Wheat Thins, Jango clinging to her heel as she skipped around the table and plopped down between him and Olivia.

"Hey, guys! We're in my apartment! And Jango is going to be harassing us this whole video which is great," Courtney exclaimed with a startling shift of energy that elicited a shiver from Shayne. "Basically I found this box that I don't remember what's in it. I think I made this like, ah, like years ago..." Courtney spoke with her hands, erratic movements brimming with excitement that encompassed her entire body. Experience informed Shayne that the camera would fail to capture the subtle signs of pain still creasing the edges of her eyes and teasing the corners of her lips.

Shayne clasped his hands together, stretching them out in front of him. An act that spurred Jango into crashing into him. A chuckle tumbled off his lips. Eyes flickering between Courtney and the dog, Shayne jostled Jango away, but Jango just charged him with more intensity, commanding Shayne's full attention. Sighing, Shayne caved, tousling Jango's face in a bit of rough-housing.

The sounds of junk clashing with cardboard diverted Shayne's attention back to Courtney, clutching the box of Wheat Thins above her head. Her hands swiped across the air with an erratic vigor, accidentally bopping Jango on the muzzle and scaring him away.

With Jango no longer badgering them, Courtney drew her legs onto the couch to sit cross-legged. Shayne sucked a deep breath in, eyes drifting to where her leg grazed his. The flame in his chest pulsed, an unfamiliar ache that adhered to his throat and sent a fearful chill down his spine. _This isn't me._ Shayne tucked his arms closer to his side, steadying his hands on his knees to hold himself together. His chest expanded as he breathed in, adding another coating of glue to his facade. 

He detected Courtney playing around with some weird noisemaker that reminded him of a horny frog. Shayne snatched it from her.

"This is, uh, just what I sound like on a regular basis." Shayne shook the noisemaker behind his head. Courtney's melodic laughter kissed his ears, a bright and true cadence that warmed his heart. An eye-lighting smile overwhelmed Shayne's face, the tips of his lips hooking up to his ears until his teeth were exposed and his eyes glimmered. He flung the noisemaker at Olivia, a breathy chortle escaping him. Normal. This felt normal.  
  
  
  


**_It won't last._ **  
  
  
  


Shayne tensed, his smile sinking in favor of stretching the chapped flesh of his lip between his teeth until it yielded with a piercing sting. Normal tasted foreign. The same way the voice in his head was beginning to sound. Shayne shook his head, ridiculous, his thoughts were his. No other voice could live in there, right? _With this parallel universe crap, who knows..._ Shayne snickered to himself.

Something plastic smacked him on the cheek, hauling Shayne from his thoughts. He eyed the culprit, a tiny-hand finger puppet pinched between Courtney's fingers. Shayne seized the tiny hand from Courtney before she had the opportunity to reflect on it.

"There's something in there." Shayne furrowed his brow, twisting his hand at an uncomfortable angle as he plucked at bits of folded paper. His large fingers obstructed him. Shayne anticipated Courtney teasing him about it, but her eyes stayed fixed to Olivia.

"I can get it out," Olivia squeaked, stealing it from him. She extracted the folded paper with ease, a shit-eating grin stretching her face.

"Panda Express fortunes!" Courtney blurted out, plucking the tiny hand puppet from Olivia's hands and emptying the remaining fortunes onto her lap. Shayne snagged one to read, his hand brushing against her thigh. Shayne's eyes hurried to her face, his breath catching in the back of his throat. Anger furrowed her temples and creased the corner of her eyes contrasting her teeth troubling her bottom lip. Shayne abandoned the scene, seeking the safety of his lap. She noticed. _Fuck._  
  
  
  


**_You know she likes you, right?_ **  
  
  


Feathers of fear trailed up Shayne's spine, the hair on his arm standing upright. That. That wasn't his thought. At least, he didn't remember thinking it. Was that even possible? He supposed it could be an intrusive thought, but those contained a negative connotation that this neglected to capture. _You're overthinking things again,_ he told himself, raking his fingers through his hair. It did little to suppress the burning fire scorching his stomach.

"Loyalties will be rewarded!" Olivia's whiny squeal slotted into his ears, rescuing him from the confines of his mind. He pocketed the 'not-his-thought for later, labeling it as a singular intrusive thought that strayed from his usual tirade of self-blame. Shayne rolled his shoulders and unfolded the fortune in his hands.

"Oo, let's see if they came true," Courtney mused, laying a hand on his wrist as if to guide it and the fortune towards her. Instead, she jerked her hand back, displacing her weight to lean over him. Shayne tensed, noting how careful she was not to touch him, her form hovering over his yet not even the stray fabric of her shirt brushed against him. "Well, are you going to read it?" Courtney slumped back against the couch as she slipped the finger puppet onto her pointer finger.

"Your most memorable dream will come true. So the dream you remember the most." Shayne glanced over at Courtney, _do you still think it's a dream?_ A thin smile danced on her lips before her eyes lifted to meet his - a brief exchange that burdened his heart. Shayne swore he saw regret flicker across the crisp emerald of her eyes, but Courtney concealed it too fast for him to be certain. A fake smile cloaked any hint of true emotion as she smacked him with the tiny hand finger puppet capping her pointer finger. Shayne groaned, pressing his lips together as Courtney pivoted to Olivia, the fake smile aimed at him morphing into a genuine one for Olivia.

Shayne froze, a weight settling on his thigh. With a long breath in, he allowed his eyes to gravitate to the source. Her leg. Her leg rested on top of his. He gulped. _Yep. This is a thing now._ Shayne shifted, a restless tension building up his spine.  
  
  


**_Close the distance; you know you want to._ **  
  
  
  


The 'intrusive thought' pulsed through his muscles, anchoring his arms with the enticement on resting on her leg. Shayne blamed it on her leg occupying in the same spot that his arms naturally desired to fall. Shayne collapsed back against the couch, praying the added distance would quiet the insistent voice in his head.

The weight on his leg increased. _Shit._

"Oh, here," Courtney said. Shayne lifted his gaze just as Courtney shoved a handful of photos at his hands. He floundered, the photos slotting through his fingers and to the floor. He folded over to pick them up, sandwiching her leg in the process. Straightening back up, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. A red tint flushed her face as she tilted her head down, eyes half-closed as she concentrated on where her hands fiddled in her lap. Shayne's heart swelled in his chest at the vulnerability slipping past her mask.

"Achem," Olivia coughed, gesturing to the camera with her head. Right. They were shooting a video. No time to dwell on inappropriate thoughts or how cute Courtney looked when embarrassed. A blush scalded his cheeks. Shayne refocused his attention on the stack of photos in his hand and chuckled. The photo topping the stack was a photoshoot of Courtney's high school track team posing in their uniforms on some bleachers.

"Find me!" Courtney squeaked, her shoulder briefly grazing his as she curved over him and poked the photo.

"There you are. You pointed right to your face!" Shayne kidded, embracing the brief return of their banter. _Maybe, we can go back to normal,_ he deluded himself as he handed the photos over to a beaming Courtney.  
  
  
  


**_Is that what you want? To be normal? To be just friends?_ **  
  
  


Shayne bit his tongue to prevent himself from answering, his mind initially identifying his inner voice as not his own in a fleeting window of confusion. _I don't sound like that... do I?_ He exhaled, playing the 'intrusive thought' on repeat in hopes of distinguishing the source of confusion. Dropping his head into his hands, Shayne's fingers latched on to his face and stretched the skin down, evoking a fluttering of whispered concern from Olivia. He dismissed it, the world falling away as his mind drowned in the voice.

It sounded like him - the same cadence, the same tone, and timbre, yet it had a slight texture to it, a subtle coarseness that scratched at his ears. _This is nonsense_ , he cast his findings aside, his hand slinking off his face to clutch his knee. No, it was just the stress playing tricks on him. That was it. It had to be, otherwise...

A shadow fell over Shayne, derailing his train of thought as a sudden addition of weight flattened the cushion next to him. Shayne shivered, a sharpness dancing down his spine that chilled his muscles. With stiff, disjointed movements, Shayne twisted his head the source. He froze, finding Olivia's squinting at him just centimeters from his face.

"You think too much," she said, pressing her finger into his forehead. Courtney stirred between them, sparking Shayne to peep behind Olivia to gauge how she faired under Olivia's weight. No luck. Olivia's petite figure shielded everything but Courtney's legs from his vision.

"You're terrifying. You know that, right?" Shayne said, his voice tapering into a high pitched whine that died off with a single, nervous chuckle.

"Guys? We're in the middle of shooting a video, and uhm, you're kinda hurting my leg," Courtney choked out, pain lacing her words. Olivia hastened off Courtney, collapsing back into her corner with a thump. Shayne's eyes darted to Courtney. His face plunged. Her hand clutched her side; her mouth curled up in agony to meet her scrunched up eyes. Pain creased every wrinkle on her face. The instinctual impulse to wrap a protective arm around her spurted to the surface, pricking his fingertips. Shayne clenched his hands, rolling his fingers against the palm of his hand.  
  
  


**_Do it._ **  
  
  


_Shit._

Shayne stared at his hand now trembling millimeters above her knee, his motor control kicking in at the last moment. _Too close, way too close,_ he wrenched his hand into his lap, retaining it there with his other hand for safe measure. Looking to Courtney once more, his stomach shrank. Her eyes bored holes in him as she mouthed 'what the fuck'. On impulse, he gave a sheepish shrug, crumpling in on himself in anticipation of her slapping his shoulder, but she just shoved the box of Wheat Thins into his lap.

"Box duty," she whisper-shouted before angling her body towards Olivia and tucking her legs up to her chest. The farthest away she could get from him without leaving the couch. "Next item, Box Boy." Shayne sighed, thrusting his oversized hands into the box and retrieving a letter. He tapped Courtney's shoulder with it. She jerked it from him without even looking.

"Uh, that's a letter from my ex," she said. She whipped her head around to face him, twisting her mouth and raising her eyebrows in disgust. He returned it with a lopsided smile as she tossed the card off camera. At least, she was looking at him now. More than just looking, her eyes locked to his, edges now weak, quivering lips pulled straight, a suffocating air of sorrowful regret that endured two seconds too long. A slip of her mask that mangled his heart.

Something was wrong. Really wrong.

He detected hints of it before, brief moments where her mask had flickered on and off, but this raw display of internal suffering? It landed way beyond the scope he had anticipated. That quiver. The fact that the fleeting mention of her ex had evoked it... Shayne pinched the folds of his pants and rolled them between his fingers. Her ex only drew that reaction from her on her more fragile of days. The days where an out-of-place word would send her flying off the handle or a slipped text would coerce choked sobs from her lips. He had seen it more times than he ever cared to, yet it never failed to stomp his heart into dust and reignite his hatred for the guy.

Shayne place his hand palm facing up on the couch, his eyes fastening on to hers with a welcoming softness. He didn't think she would take it, but it was the only thing he could think to do. Her watery greens slanted to his hand, her hands now tucked to her chest, quivering with uncertainty. Shayne darted his eyes to Olivia who had her hand on Courtney's shoulder, worry twitching her mouth. She saw it too.

He opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly, Courtney swiveled, snagging the box out of his lap before adjusting herself to sit squarely between him and Olivia once more. A fake smile so obvious it hurt displaced her distress though Shayne still discerned it lingering on her face if he squinted.

The tension cooled as they continued filming, the trio falling into a routine of items and commentary. For a while, a numbness consumed Shayne's thoughts, a pleasant respite from the chaos whipping inside his skull. His worries. The unsettling voice. Her pain. It dispersed as autopilot seized him.

Olivia's shrill laugh yanked Shayne from his reprieve.

"Oh, what the heck is this," Olivia said, plucking a pink ribbon from the box. Shayne chewed on his lip, sensing a familiar pressure on his leg. Through the corner of his eyes, he confirmed his suspicion. Courtney once again sat cross-legged, her knee spilling on to him. Her upper body strained towards him; he noted, her hand lightly clutching her side as she twisted to grab the ribbon from Olivia. Shayne forced air through his nose, his head floating with the realization that her leaning into him was only a product of pain.

"Birthday princess!" Courtney laughed, straightening out the ribbon. She raised an eyebrow as she asked the camera, "What is that from? Who gave that to me?"

"I'm assuming it must be from the birthday princess competition that you won," Shayne answered. A warm tingle licked his stomach as Courtney leaned over and appended the ribbon to his shirt. Her hand lingered, palm flattened over the pin before she withdrew it, returning to their commentary routine along with Olivia. Shayne couldn't.

The scent of citrus and something else lingered long after she drew away. A scent both familiar and not snaked its way up his nose and found purchase in his memories. It pervaded every crevice, searching the depths of his brain for its twin. That night. Her weight on him. The scent of her hair. Shayne clamped his eyes shut. _Not here. Not now. Stay present,_ he prayed, but it failed to stop the torrent from shattering his walls and flooding him.

Flashes of Alternate Courtney straddling his lap flickered across his eyes, a movie on repeat projecting into his mind.

Bitterness spilled into his mouth.  
  
  


**_You stole that night from me._ **  
  



	12. Courtney

Courtney loitered outside her apartment long after Olivia's car sped out of sight and nothing but the half-filled parking lot stared back. Retiring to her apartment meant dealing with Shayne. He wanted to talk. She expected as much after everything that transpired, yet with her fragile disposition and no one to stop her, one slip, one lapse of judgment was all it would take. She already sensed the emotional storm brewing in her gut, gnawing at her for release.

Her eyes sank to her car, the urge to escape - to avoid the impending disaster inside - climbing up her throat. _I could just leave. Drive away with a text_. She bit her lip. Still, leaving Shayne without a word, without warning... _He's hurting too._ Sighing, Courtney swallowed, her hand shaking as her fingers coiled around the doorknob to her front door. The icy metal flushed her body with a calming chill, a distinct contrast to the simmering air around her. In one swift movement, Courtney thrust the door open.

The roar of the A/C invaded her ears, its crisp wind swirling with the outside heat until the doorknob grew warm in comparison. Courtney advanced under the doorway where the sweltering air clashed with cold. The enticing frost beckoned her inside while the heat drilled into her back and scalded her into complying. She peered over her shoulder one last time before traversing the threshold.

Courtney pressed her back to the door as it closed, her eyes settling on Shayne sitting on the couch. His head rested on his hands, body folded over, the vein in his forehead straining against his skin. She plucked at her pant leg, teeth worrying her lip as her eyes roved over to where the contents of her memory box cluttered the table and floor. Jango was nowhere to be found, _in my bedroom, probably._

Letting her eyes revert back to Shayne, anger scalded her stomach as she remembered the video he had just ruined. Her heart retreated to her stomach, intestines coiling around to strangle her voice, but words snaked through its grasp, falling off her lips before she could seal her mouth.

"What the fuck was that, Shayne? I can't use any of that. The fucking hell." Courtney stormed over, stopping in front of the coffee table, a hand on her hip. "Do you think I can erase you from the video entirely? Is there even a program for that?"

"I get it. I fucked up. What else do you want me to say, Courtney?" Shayne asked, voice hitching in the back of his throat.

"An apology, for one. Or I don't know, leaving?" Arms now crossed against her chest, Courtney rapped her fingers on her forearm to disperse the nervous restlessness nipping at her skin. _What are you doing, Courtney?_ Courtney bit her lip - hard - desperate to hold onto her faltering mask.

"I'm sorry I lost it, okay? I truly, truly am," painful honesty cut Shayne's voice, "I can find an editor to erase me if that's what you want, but I'm not leaving until you talk to me. Really talk to me. Not this immature cold-hearted shit you keep feigning." Shayne finally lifted his head. _Don't look at me_. 

Too late. 

Watery blue eyes secured onto hers. 

Salty droplets tipped his eyelashes, a hollow emptiness drowning his whites in a panic that pierced her heart. Courtney gulped, her pupils contracting as she leveled her lips into a straight line though the edges still twitched with the truth.

"Well?" He pushed for a response. She forced her eyes to the surrounding mayhem.

"Well, if you won't leave, you might as well help me clean this up," Courtney stuttered, spreading her arms and motioning to the expansive mess. Shayne wiped his hand down his face, drawing his cheeks down and pinching his mouth. He shook his head with a single breathy laugh.

"Fine, whatever you say," he bemoaned, slipping to the ground where he started assembling the stray keepsakes into a heap on the coffee table. 

One by one, she stuffed the mementos into the box, neglecting Shayne's mumbled attempts to advance the conversation.

They settled into a routine

Now and then, her eyes would gravitate to him, tracing his broad shoulders up to his neck and across his chiseled jaw. She refused to venture beyond that point, well aware of his quivering lips and tear crusted eyes. She didn't want to be reminded of the pain she caused; after all, two shattered souls were the last thing she needed.

"Well, that looks to be the last of it," Shayne cracked the silence, diverting her attention to him.

The Wheat Thins box in her hands crashed to the ground as she watched him close the distance until he was an arm's length away. Tired eyes stared into hers, tears no longer present but that same quiver still tortured his bottom lip. His hand stretched towards her, hesitating midway - waiting for her.

Courtney hooked her thumbs into her pants' waist, but it failed to stop her arms from trembling nor her legs from cowering as her body gravitated into him. His proximity. The raw emotion draining his face. It seeped through her veins, spiraling down her extremities to dance across her fingertips.

Her thumb wrenched itself from her pants, her arm sweeping out to him. The ache to quell his pain fed into her hunger for comfort, scorching her into action. Courtney yanked her hand back. _Breathe, Courtney. You're in control._

"You should leave." Courtney shuffled backwards, tripping over her feet to her front door. She hoped Shayne would follow.

He didn't.

"Not until we talk," a faint tremble betrayed the alarming nature of his words.

"Can it wait? I mean you must have places to be, and I have things to do." A list of half-assed excuses conjured out of fear and panic. Alone. Alone for the first time since that night, since... Courtney stomped the thought out before it formed.

"No, I don't think it can." Shayne collapsed onto the couch. "I don't think I can," Shayne corrected himself, his eyes descending to the ground. Courtney pressed her lips together. Words deserted her, a tangle of indecipherable emotion cinching her throat. "Courtney?" She turned from him, unable to withstand his pleading gaze.

"I think you should go, Shayne." Stomach acid slithered up her throat, but she endured it, cognizant that if he stayed, her diminished self-control would fragment.

"Courtney, can you just... I. I don't know..." He combed his fingers through his hair. "How about I talk and you listen?"

"I really..."

"Want me to leave," Shayne interrupted, bitterness carving into his voice. "If you didn't want me here, why invite me?"

"Olivia sent the text." Guilt sprouted up her throat upon witnessing Shayne rake his fist across his thigh, his face twisting in a crude display of turmoil that sank her soul. His mask rarely fractured, so to see his unfiltered distress, to see his vulnerability peaking through... She caused this. Her words. They held this power. The guilt sowed its roots, latching on to her stomach. _I can't do this._

"It's not that I don't want you here," she admitted, "I just don't trust myself."

"You don't trust yourself?" Shayne quirked an eyebrow at her. She nodded, sealing her lips. His eyes burrowed into her, begging for an explanation.

"Not around you." Courtney tugged at the hem of her shirt as silence engulfed the room, her words sinking into the space between them. She studied him, watching his eyes dance back and forth as he deciphered what she had said. "Sorry, I shouldn't have..." Courtney chirped, a single nervous hiccup rising to the surface. A shy laugh parted his lips.

"Don't apologize." Shayne paused, a weak but reassuring smile lighting his mouth. It did nothing to quell the nervous swirling overtaking her stomach. "I just want to understand, Courtney. We're supposed to be best friends. You're supposed to trust me."

"We are. I do, but..."

"Just not enough." Courtney's gut clenched upon hearing the waver in his voice, a tapering whine overflowing with desperate frustration.

"Shayne..." She hesitated, her heart swelling in her throat, suffocating her.

"All I'm asking is for you to talk to me, to hear me out," Shayne pleaded, "for you to sit on this couch and discuss things like adults. Can you do that? Can you do it for me?" Shayne locked eyes with her, tears clinging to his eyelashes. Courtney absently nodded, her eyes dropping to the vacant cushion beside him. 

She rocked her weight from one foot to the other, the urge to run challenging the guilt persuading her to stay put. She could compromise and listen from the doorway, but that still didn't spare him. Her distancing herself started this mess. Continuing this game... _I don't want to break him._ Courtney foolishly lifted her eyes to Shayne's pleading gaze. 

Her fragility reflected off his blue orbs.

Without thinking, Her feet sprang forward, scuffling towards the couch at a frightening pace. Courtney - thankfully - managed to stop herself before she crossed the entire length of the couch, curling up in the seat farthest from Shayne. 

"I don't bite, you know," Shayne joked. The tension in her gut prevented her from laughing.

"Just make it quick," Courtney said, her body drifting towards him. She drew herself upright, tucking her arms flat against her sides. Her muscles strained to settle in a more natural position, but she held strong, staying hyper-aware of her posture at the cost of being comfortable. 

A shuffling of movement in her peripheral vision nearly provoked her to look up from her thumbs twiddling in her lap, but she denied her curiosity, breath adhering to her throat as Shayne's hand drifted into her line of sight. It hovered millimeters from her as if considering to grab her hand or rest on her knee. In the end, it retracted, and he sighed.

"What happened when you Glimpsed?" Shayne asked. Glimpsed? The unfamiliar term prompted Courtney to cock her head at him.

"What do you mean by Glimpsed?"

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking," Shayne said with a breathy laugh as he rubbed the back of his head. "By Glimpsed, I mean travel to the parallel universe. I've been referring to it as Glimpsing just to make it simpler talking wise. Damien liked it." Damien? He told Damien about the parallel universe. Courtney clenched her fist. _How could you tell Damien so easily when I can't even muster up the courage to tell you?_

"Damien knows? I mean I know you told him about me ghosting. He told Olivia who... You know what, never mind. This is great. Just great." Courtney kissed her teeth. How could he? This was their secret. Not his. Theirs. Both of them Glimpsed that night. Not just him. "You told Damien," she whispered, now pretending to focus on her hands picking at the folds in her baggy pants though Shayne remained in her peripheral vision.

"You're not the only one struggling, Courtney." Shayne raked his nails up his thighs. "I'm human too, you know." Courtney worried her bottom lip between her teeth, tilting her head to garner a better view of his face. No mask. Just an unreadable jumble of emotion. "With everything that's happened... It just piled up. After Ian's house... I couldn't take it." 

Shayne readjusted his position to grip his face with his hand, digging his fingers into his skin and pulling. A sight that spiked Courtney's chest with pain, her heart tensing as her pulse quickened. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. _Stay strong, Courtney._ Courtney squirmed, clenching and unclenching her fists in rapid succession.

"I needed someone to talk to, and you weren't texting back."

His words twisted into a bullet and drilled into her stomach, tearing her intestines to tatters and displacing them with a suffocating burden. _It's my fault._ Numbness radiated from her abdomen and into her extremities. Her body sank into the couch as her arms and legs turned to dead weight. _You needed me, and I shut you out._

"I don't blame you if that's what you're thinking," Shayne said, derailing her spiraling thoughts. The guilt extracted its roots from her limbs, shriveling up into a wrinkled stem that adhered to her stomach lining. Courtney swallowed its wilted blossom, its lead petals slinking down her throat. Her stomach plummeted.

"How much does he know? Did you tell him about...?"

"About our alternate selves dating?" Shayne asked. Courtney nodded 'yes', keeping her eyes trained on her lap. "Can you at least look at me?" Shayne sighed. She shook her head but still lifted her gaze. Her eyes darted between the space behind his head and the overwhelming concern flickering across his eyes. 

"I didn't mean to." Shayne swallowed, sucking in a large breath of air and holding it. Her heart clenched, closing around her throat with each beat. _Just this once,_ Courtney told herself.

Courtney walked her hand across the couch, briefly squeezing his knee before pulling back. He offered her a weak smile. 

"It sort of just came out. I was stressed, trying to convince him that it wasn't just a dream. He was playing up his whole Douchebag Damien routine. I can usually handle it." Shayne rolled his eyes and laughed through his nose. "I guess I just snapped, and, well..."

"Douchebag Damien? Really, that's your excuse?" Courtney quirked an eyebrow. "We both know there's not a single mean bone in Damien's body."

"Just because you haven't seen it, doesn't mean it's not real." Shayne's eyes fastened onto hers. "Trust me, Douchebag Damien exists."

"Great. Just great," she said. "Not only does he know, but apparently he's also a douchebag now." Though she struggled to believe Douchebag Damien existed, she trusted Shayne enough to go along with his defense.

Courtney opened her mouth to speak then closed it in favor of using her eyes to pull more information from him. Instead, an uncomfortable silence clogged the room. _Do you think about us dating?_ She thanked the lord her mouth didn't betray her on that one.

"You still haven't answered my question," Shayne broke the silence. "What happened when you Glimpsed?" Courtney flashed back to her and Alternate Shayne in the closet. How did she summarize it without giving herself away? _I can't,_ she answered herself, _he'll see right through me._ Courtney sighed. 

Even if she was ready to share, what would he think of her? He had implied that he had refused Alternate Courtney's advances. At least, that was what she had surmised. If he knew she wasn't able to do the same, if he knew about what happened in that closet... Her eyes flickered between his eyes and lips, an unconscious action that she regretted upon feeling her tongue dart across her bottom lip. _Did he notice?_ Courtney ducked her head, heat flushing her cheeks.

"Does it matter?" Courtney deflected, needing this conversation to end before her body deceived her. "I went wherever you went, right?"

"Damien wants to help us control it, but he - "

"Control it? What's there to control? It happened one time. It won't happen again." _Like he's going to believe that,_ she cringed.

"Stop lying. We both know I didn't just faint at Ian's house."

"Fine. Twice then." Courtney corrected herself. Shayne sighed, a stressed smile teasing the corners of his mouth. She wanted to cave, place a comforting hand on his shoulder and abandon this stone-cold facade. Still, her muscles trembled as she struggled to keep her body upright and her arms tucked to her side, prioritizing her emotional stability over his. The wilted guilt stretched in her stomach, its roots unraveling and latching onto her walls.

"I've been Glimpsing in and out all week, Courtney," Shayne admitted. "Nothing like the first two, but small, little flashes. If I don't get control of it..." His voice faded into a whimper, face lifting to the ceiling as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. His corneas shrank, pupils contracting into a sea of blue, the whites bulging out of proportion. "I don't want to lose myself. I don't want to lose you." 

Fear. All she saw was fear.

"Why don't you hate me? You should hate me." Tears caught the tail end of her words. "You needed me, and I just shut you out. Ghosted you. I fucking ghosted you, Shayne."

Wincing, Shayne took a loud breath in, his hand reaching across the couch to cover her knee. Courtney tensed, her hand trembling as it floated over his. She jerked it to her chest, bringing her other hand up to hold it there.

"Fuck. I'm an idiot. Here you are with your heart on display, and I couldn't even bother to hit the send button." Shaking her head, Courtney breathed a sad laugh and wiped at the tears building on her eyelashes.

"You're talking to me now."

"You forced me to," she reminded him, eyes briefly finding his before retreating to her lap. "Selfish. That's me. Courtney, the selfish queen, breaking hearts with her stupid need for space. How can you even tolerate me?"

"I won't say it didn't hurt, because it did. It really, fucking did. Seeing you turn you back. How you spoke to me." Shayne's hand lifted from her knee to draw her hand from her chest and into his lap. He fiddled with her fingers, his eyes trained on their intertwined hands as he spoke, "I thought you hated me."

"Never," Courtney whispered, laying her head on his shoulder. Her eyes locked on to him, and, for the first time that day, Courtney didn't want to look away.

"It sounds stupid now, but I thought..." He shook his head, a sad laugh slipping through his teeth."I got it in my head that something happened that night at Defy. Something that I couldn't take back. That Alternate Shayne, that he..." Courtney's heart seized. "I need to know. Did I... Did he..."

"It's what I did," Courtney blurted out, retracting her hand. Her gut clenched at the thought of coming clean, the urge to curl up in a ball and hide emerging through the fog. She planted her hand on the couch so that her fingertips dusted his leg. "I...When I Glimpsed... I... You... We..." Her voice sounded alien to her ears. Courtney fell silent, fear rearing its head. It burned the last vestiges of guilt clinging to her gut and replaced it with a searing heat.

Even with Shayne at her side, even knowing he would more than understand, she wasn't able to face it. Not yet, at least. Courtney ducked her head away from his pleading gaze. _He deserves an answer, Courtney. Give him something._

"You did nothing wrong. You've done nothing wrong. Not here. Not over there." _Great, I sound like a Dr. Seuss book_. She grasped his hand once more and squeezed. "You've been perfect. Both of you. I'm just a fucking mess."

"I won't judge," Shayne said. Courtney supplied a meek smile, bringing her free hand to her mouth to chew on her thumbnail.

"I don't think I'm ready to talk about it. Not that Glimpse, at least," the last part tumbled past her lips without thinking.

"That Glimpse? As in you Glimpsed again?"

"I lied to you... I've been lying to myself," Courtney admitted, knowing that there was no room for backtracking. "I thought it would be easier." Shayne granted her an understanding smile, soothing the back of her hand with his thumb. "That night I texted you. Well, it was Olivia who actually texted you." 

"Go on," Shayne encouraged.

"I kinda got drunk, and it happened again," Courtney confessed. "Drunk me got this stupid plan to confirm that it was, in fact, a parallel universe and not a dream. I knew it wouldn't work. It shouldn't have worked. I still don't understand it, but... " Courtney shrugged with a guilty smile. "It's not a dream." 

With a deep breath in, she guided her free hand to the hem of her shirt, her fingers trembling as she grasped the material. Her breath hitched in her throat. _This is a bad idea,_ she thought, _but_ _he deserves to know._

Courtney held Shayne's eyes with hers as she hiked her shirt up to just below her bra, careful not to expose herself while still uncovering enough skin to reveal the scar. "You can look." 

She watched Shayne's eyes fall to the bright red and scabbed-over cut slicing across her abdomen, right where her ribcage started to taper off. Courtney expected Shayne to be repulsed with her or, at the very least, angry; she expected him to lecture her on her stupidity. Instead, his hand reached for her, his fingertips barely brushing over the cut. 

Courtney tensed, her skin pulling tight under his touch as her muscles curled in to avoid it. His hand persisted, trailing a finger across the fresh wound. Butterflies flipped her stomach, the comfort of his touch outweighing the pain spiking her raw nerves.

"You did this?" Shayne flattened his palm against the wound. Courtney shuddered. Heat radiated off his palm, searing her wound and the surrounding skin. It wasn't as painful as she imagined it would be, what with him touching her still-healing wound. No, it felt soothing, the combination of heat and pressure unwinding and releasing the tangled tension that strangled her form.

Words climbed up her throat to fill her mouth, a chaos of phrases that when strung together would form a jumbled confession.

Courtney breathed through her nose, clamping her mouth shut. The pressure swelled in her mouth, building up until her ability to hold it in wavered. She crumpled onto him, burying her face in his chest. Ragged sobs wracked her body, each one ripping a single word from her mouth, far too muffled to be heard.

A whispered collection of sweet nothings filtered into her ear as Shayne hushed her, enveloping her in his arms and drawing her close. Her one-word sobs persisted as her fists balled up his cotton shirt, now damp thanks to her tears. Shayne just tightened his embrace, rubbing a hand up and down her back. 

Everything rushed beneath her eyelids. The apartment. The implied happiness. It all hit at once.

"We lived together," she choked out. "I saw it. In the parallel, we live here, together. Here. Happy. We're happy together." The hand soothing her back paused as Shayne pressed a soft kiss into her hair. She waited for him to pull back, but he stayed, resting his mouth on the top of her head. "We could be..."

A whisper so soft that she didn't know if Shayne heard her. She wasn't sure she wanted him to.


	13. Shayne

Her lithe form had slotted into Shayne's arms with an unsettling familiarity that electrified his nerves, hair standing on end to escape the fire radiating off his skin.

She felt like home.

Courtney in his arms, their bodies pressed so close together that her body quaking sobs vibrated into him, yet Shayne ached to have her closer.

He suspected it all derived from Alternate Shayne biding time somewhere rooted deep within him, yet he feigned indifference; his panic and distress suffocated under her weight. Her tears he could live without, but this - this feeling - he wanted this to last.

Shayne hoisted his mouth from her hair, arching his neck to evaluate their position. Her upper body weighed against his stomach - arms curled against his chest and hands balled up in his now tear and make-up stained shirt - her legs slipping in between the couch cushions. Far from what Shayne considered a comfortable position, yet the shaky cries tumbling from her lips enlisted his full attention.

Fighting the urge to scoop her into his lap, Shayne planted a soft kiss into her hair. He left his lips there, savoring the light citrus wafting off her blonde strands.

"Shh, I got you. I'm here," Shayne whispered, stroking his hand down her back to encourage her bawling to cease.

A choked out sob spluttered from her lips, twisting his stomach. The ache to guard her, to ease her tears pulsed from his fallen heart, pumping through his veins with each beat until it saturated every crevice and infected every part of him. It spurred Shayne to scavenge his broken brain for a means to console her, acidity slithering up his esophagus to smear his tongue in failure.

Usually, cheering her up came down to a well-timed joke or impromptu bit, a tried-and-true method that had served him well since the day they met, yet his gut assured him that no joke could tackle this meltdown. The risk of worsening the situation agreed.

 _How? How do I make it better?_ He sighed, nuzzling her hair.

**_Kiss her. It's always worked for me._ **

Shayne stiffened upon hearing Alternate Shayne. Frustration rasped the edges of his voice, its coarseness pricking the back of Shayne's neck. He clenched his jaw. _I thought we agreed that you'd stay quiet until I got home._

**_Do you want me to suffocate in there?_ **

Rolling his eyes, Shayne tightened his arms around the bundle of tears cowering in his arms. A string of sweet nothings toppled from his mouth as his hand abandoned its post to brush back the curtain of hair shielding her. His stomach hollowed.

Red, tear-stained cheeks obscured her scrunched up eyes. He needed to do something, anything to clear the pain torturing her features. Inhaling, Shayne dipped his head, pressing a hesitant kiss to her forehead. A new layer of intimacy that stretched their definition of friendship.

Her cries halted, a throttled cough clutching her throat.

"Courtney..." Shayne withdrew to gauge her reaction, the hand pinning her hair back falling to her lower back. She just buried her face into his chest, clinging to him for sanctuary.

"Don't," she croaked, another wave of tears crashing over her.

**_Ignore me all you like; I'm not going anywhere until she stops wailing._ **

Shayne tapped his fingers, restless to free the building tension biting at his nerves. The soothing comfort hugging her brought withered with every tottering cry Courtney huffed, leaving him with a paper-thin blanket that disintegrated to the touch. Alternate Shayne's suggestion skittered across his thoughts, toying with his desperation to preserve his blanket from its impending decay.

No, she deserved better. A better first kiss. A better man. Someone who would handle her fragility with responsibility, not desperation.

_I'm not going to take advantage of her, you ass._

**_For Christ's sake! It's a fucking kiss, and she wants it! I can assure you she does. I am, after all, the ass who's practically married to the girl. Well, a version of her... But how different can they be?_ **

_Well, given that she and I aren't even dating and you're an asshole._ Shayne grated his teeth.

**_If I'm an asshole, then what does that make you?_ **

_Someone who doesn't use another's vulnerability for their own gain?_ Shayne snorted.

"What?" Courtney choked out; his shirt muted her tear-clogged voice. Regret cinched his stomach.

"Nothing, just holding back a sneeze," Shayne lied, carding his fingers through her tresses. She just nodded into his ribs, her cries dissolving into short bursts of air that evaded his ears yet still reverberated into him.

**_Will you just kiss her already! I don't know how much more of this shit I can take, between her crying and you pussyfooting around the girl of your dreams like some coward... It's hard enough straddling bodies._ **

_Why don't you make the both of us happy and scamper away home,_ Shayne snarled, clamping his arms around Courtney to defend her from the rage tangling Alternate Shayne's words.

**_You really think I'm still here out of choice? Fuck that. I want to focus on my beauty giving me a striptease right now and not on your whiny ass voice in my head._ **

_You're the one in my head, dimwit._

**_We're both in each other's head. Look, it's complicated._ **

_So, you know how this works?_ Shayne's heart bounded with hope.

**_I'll tell you if you kiss her._ **

_For the last time..._ Shayne groaned.

**_Blah, blah, blah. Look, if you don't do it, I will._ **

_You wouldn't._

**_Try me._ **

Shayne secured his mouth to her hair to offset the possibility of his self-control falling through. Breathing her in, relief trickled over him, a short-lived reprieve from his mangled consciousness. The soft sobs still chopping her breath into stuttered bursts splintered it.

With a long inhale, Shayne rifled his mind for a less invasive way to console her, scrutinizing their conversation with a microscope to uncover the truth behind her tears.

Three syllables snared his thoughts. _'We could be...'_

The words ricocheted against his skull, their implication prancing on his heart. He swallowed, eyeing the quivering form in his arms. _Do you mean...?_

**_Of course, she means that you idiot, but that's not why she's crying._ **

_If you know so much, then tell me how to fix it,_ Shayne growled, his protective instinct swelling in his chest.

**_I told you. Just kiss her._ **

_Some help you are._ Shayne reverted to probing their discussion, extracting every word she uttered. If this wasn't about what she witnessed in that second Glimpse... His mind scoured their limited exchange surrounding her first Glimpse until one phrase prevailed, _'It's what I did.'_

**_Bingo._ **

_I take it you know what she did?_

**_I have my suspicions._ **

_You're not going to tell me, are you?_ Shayne withheld the groan crowding his lips, avid to avoid disturbing Courtney. Despite his own turmoil revolving around Alternate Shayne's new residency in his head, it could wait. Right now, Courtney took centerstage. She always would.

_'It's what I did.'_ Shayne raked her words with a fine-toothed comb, a surge of possibilities impacting his brain. Casting a line and hoping he hooked the correct mark terrified him, the consequences of making the wrong assumption a risk too dangerous to take. A net would work better. Something broad that encapsulated every potentiality.

"Whatever it is, whatever you think you did," Shayne said, "I promise we're not broken. We'll never be broken. Nothing you did, nothing you could do will change that. I promise. Our friendship is stronger than that. We're stronger than that." Shayne brushed his fingers through her hair. Her sobs endured though their frequency decreased, and their volume lessened to thin rushes of air.

"I'm here. I'll always be here," he hushed. "Whatever you did, I'm not mad. I could never be mad at you, never." She squirmed, prompting him to loosen his grip and retract himself just enough to watch her lift her face. Her eyes sprung up to locate his before resting her head on his shoulder.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew," her shallow whisper wavered with each uneven breath. Her confidence he so admired had been stripped from her being, leaving a decayed, hollow husk of insecurity that reflected him through her eyes. A friend Shayne abandoned time and time again yet still clung to him and now tormented her.

"Did you murder someone?" Shayne asked.

"No?" Despite the angle hindering his view, Shayne noted the confusion crinkling her temples. Fresh air compared to the prior pain that had irritated her delicate features.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you're sure? Because I can help you hide the body if you need me to."

"I didn't kill anyone, Shayne." Courtney slapped him in jest. Through her blonde locks, Shayne made out a light blush tinging her cheeks as her eyes bounced around his shoulders.

"Damn, I was hoping I'd get to knock that off my bucket list." Shayne offered a soft chuckle, hoping to tempt her into a smile.

"Hiding a body is on your bucket list?" He practically heard her quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" A soft laugh fell from her lips as she leaned back.

Blonde locks draped her face, her head still bowed to him. Keeping one arm still wrapped snug around her waist, Shayne cupped her chin, tilting her head up to him and exposing a beautiful mess that ignited a fire in his heart. His eyes traced her jawline, sweeping over her swollen lips and following tracks of mascara and dried tears up her cheeks to her eyes.

Butterflies singed his stomach.

Her emerald pools captivated him in a watery depth that drew him to her. His eyes darted to her parted lips, his tongue slipping past his. _Stop. Wrong time. Wrong place._ Shayne sealed his lips and bit the seam they created, desperate to restrain himself from plunging into her gravitational pull.

**_Kiss. Her._ **

Static distorted Alternate Shayne's words, scraping his ears and unraveling his body.

Pins and needles swarmed him, his skin contracting around his muscles as another presence carved out his core to wear him.

A fragmented soul ripped him from his seat, asphyxiating Shayne's control and ostracizing him to the back of his skull. Paralyzed and unable to fight, he watched through pixelated static as his body pitched forward, and his lips crashed into hers.

A stolen first kiss that ruptured him.

Shayne willed his control to return, latching the threads of his soul to his muscles and yanking.

Darkness.

Static consumed the world.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.


	14. Shayne

**Music:**

A sharp halt in movement. Head slamming air. A disorientation of space and time.

Shayne's essence sloshed around a globe entrenched in darkness, careening up walls of bone and flesh where it deposited a slick yet slimy residue on every surface it touched. Interlacing threads of soul incorporated the remnants as they weaved over and under one another in a competition for control. The strands coiled around Alternate Shayne's spirit, restraining his autonomy to nothing more than an immobile spectator.

Triumph tasted bitter, static slathering the back of Shayne's throat, while detached essence flogged his skull. It shredded the world into incoherent noise; a fury of stimuli secured behind gated eyes.

With a deep breath in, Shayne trained his fractured consciousness on the weak sensory input dusting his skin. Electronic synth and light bass blistered his ears with a raw, tangible fever that diffused through the ground and up his feet. A keen edge jutted into the back of his knees. An indented surface carved his back. Sitting, he was sitting, just not on her plush cushion couch. _A wooden chair, maybe?_

**_And we're back, FINALLY!_ **

_Send. Me. Back. Now._

**_You're the one who got so worked up over a kiss that you Glimpsed._ **

_YOU FORCED ME!_

**_Calm down; you'll be back in no time. Till then, let me enjoy the show._ **

_Show?_

Shayne tore his eyelids apart, the mucus gluing them together stretching into thin strands that jailed his eyes.

Clarity startled him as the electronic beat of 'Fourth Dimension' by Lights scorched his ears.

Crystal green pools stared back at him. A face millimeters from his. Lips brushing. Ribbons of saliva falling onto his lower lips. Courtney. _Alternate Courtney_ , he reminded himself.

A weight on his lap. His eyes lowered, tracing her exposed neck, the collar of her shirt stretched wide enough to drape over her shoulder. His shirt. The pastel pink one with the rose stitched into the breast.

She swam in it. The excess material teased her curves, pooling at their hips to reveal bare thighs.

Shayne gulped.

Thighs that straddled him, her knees tucked up against his hips, her weight resting on his kneecaps and her heels. He prayed the coral fabric covered unseen underwear. A pantyless Courtney, Alternate or otherwise, was not something he was prepared to deal with.

He wrenched his eyes to her waist, blue orbs settling on the light pink cotton bunched between his fingers.

His muscles twitched, instincts screaming for distance.

**_You wouldn't._ **

The coarse edges of Alternate Shayne's tone grated his skull, nails on chalkboard that bolted his palms to her waist. His fingertips dug the thin cloth into her midriff until heat kissed his skin, and a breathy moan parted her mouth.

Blue depths scaled pastel folds, skimming up her hickey painted neck and her swollen lips to latch onto the lust sparking her endless greens where he drowned. His body leaned in until her breath warmed his lips, and citrus laced musk suffocated him.

A gasp dripping with need slipped Alternate Courtney's lips as Shayne jerked her into him, breaking any last remnants of Shayne's inhibitions.

Their lips collided, Shayne claiming her mouth with his. Open, wet and messy. Bodies rocking together as teeth clanked against teeth, and tongues explored. Her hands clawed at his back, frantic desperation that scraped his skin.

A guttural moan departed his lips as she grinded against him, his mouth abandoning hers to bite at her jawline and down her throat.

"Shayne." She breathed his name, neck arching into him as her hands fumbled with the fringe of his white shirt. He paused his ministrations just long enough for her to tow the offensive material over his head and for reality to smash into him.

 _This is wrong. I shouldn't be doing this._ Shayne stiffened his grip, hindering her undulating hips as his self-control returned.

**_Then get out of my fucking head._ **

A low growl escaped Shayne's thoughts, his response abandoning him when Alternate Courtney's weight shifted to her hands, her thumbs drawing lazy loops into his shoulders.

His eyes seared into hers as she peeled her legs from him, nails raking his bare chest to brand his abs with red lines. Shayne stifled a moan as her knuckles grazed him just below his belly button.

The waistband of his jeans chafed him as she toyed with the zipper.

_Stop this._

Sharp edges cut the pads of his broad fingers as they enveloped her delicate ones in order to pluck them from their mission. It immobilized him in his tracks, his fingers sweeping up to investigate the culprit. A collection of pointed corners indented his skin, an angular polygon that protruded from some sort of metal cinching her finger.

A ring.

Shayne hoisted her hand to his face. _Her left hand?_ His stomach flipped. Fanning out her fingers, he traced the lines etching her palm, skipping broken fissures until a glint of silver ensnared him. Just as he suspected, a sterling silver band encircled her ring finger. Bending her knuckles uncovered a modest diamond.

Alternate Shayne's pride swelled within him, an expanding heat that parted his lips and lured his mouth to her palm. Engaged. They were engaged, in love and engaged.

A soft growl seduced him from his thoughts and to the devilish gleam sparking her eyes and teasing her red-coated lips.

"Yours. All yours." Passion burned Alternate Courtney's tongue, her middle finger plunging into his mouth and hooking his bottom lip as she withdrew her hands from him. Shayne swallowed, willing his eyes to seal and the building heat to remedy.

His eyes refused, her palms descending her curves too tantalizing to resist. They smoothed down hills of rose to toy with the hem of her shirt. Time slowed with each tug of fabric — each sliver of skin unveiled — her hips swinging out of sync with the music.

She captivated him completely, his eyes her hostage as the material departed her thighs to expose black lace.

 _CLOSE. EYES. NOW._ His eyes clamped shut, darkness calming the fire.

**_Don't you dare steal my engagement night from me. Not again._ **

His words tightened Shayne's eyelids, the adhesive fastening them threatening to give. _Fight it. You're better than this._ Nails stabbed his palm, and teeth speared red flesh, blood leaking from his bottom lip to smear his tongue.

**_You. Owe. Me._ **

Brightness pierced the black depths he clung to, whittling away at the walls gating his eyes until his sanctuary burst.

She greeted his vision. Bundles of fabric dangled from her fists resting just beneath her bra line, baring that familiar crimson scar sliced into her waist.

"Stop," Shayne choked out. Alternate Courtney cocked her head, confusion tinting the lust dripping from her eyes. Sapphire globes darted between the mark and her emeralds, a silent gesture that leveled her smirk.

"Can we not?" Courtney said with a pout, her shirt plummeting to her knees.

"I just..." _Help me out here._

Alternate Shayne's coarse chuckle killed his hope.

"Stop worrying," she whined, climbing onto his laps, her hands linking behind his head. "I said 'yes'." She dropped her forehead to his, green soaking up blue. "Nothing else matters tonight." The scent of citrus overwhelmed him as her lips claimed his, teeth nipping flesh to invite him in — a bruising kiss that paralyzed with shock.

"Courtney..." His lips quivered, her mouth pursuing his jawline.

"For the last time, she did it, not me." Static strapped her words.

_She knows?_

**_We see everything you do._ **

Static mangled. White noise. A twisted face — his face — flashed Shayne into darkness.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

He crashed into silence, his soul clashing with skin. Its tendrils slithered into every orifice, snaking inside where its roots scored footholds into membrane to affix his essence to.

Shayne gasped.

Her weight was gone. Despite the static penetrating his pores and extinguishing the world, he knew that much. No weight. No Courtney on his lap. His heart skipped. She. They. The kiss.

The forced kiss.

Chains of mucus barred his eyes from opening, forcing Shayne to fixate on his emerging senses.

Rough canvas caressed his fingertips. A cushion compressed beneath him. The hard chair gone, replaced by a couch that absorbed him.

Salt lingered, dried tears slithering up his nose to join shades of vanilla hanging over the apartment. Twists of citrus mocked him with the fear of looping back to the parallel world though he prayed this wasn't the case.

Straining his ears, he picked up the faint padding of feet. Courtney pacing? Worried, maybe mad. _Probably both..._ He groaned.

His thoughts now louder than the fading static, Shayne anticipated Alternate Shayne to chime in, his breath sticking to his throat in wait. Nothing. Silence strummed, a vacancy of air where Alternate Shayne's presence once burdened.

With his senses stilled, Shayne scrunched his eyes, dislodging the crust of sand plastering his eyelids. Blinding light infiltrated his pupils before the world simmered to a hazy glow.

A blur of color streaked a sea of white and black, an out-of-focus body treading back and forth. His stomach coiled, acidity crawling up his throat to elicit a gurgled grunt. The figure paused, layers of beige, black and red pivoting in place to surge towards him.

"You're awake..." The bright edges of her voice cut him, her volume augmented by his still reconciling cognizance.

Shayne blinked, each frame of darkness polishing the world until clarity mended his frayed peripheral.

Courtney stood directly in front of him, her body folded at the waist, and her eyes fixed to his. Her eyebrows met; a V-shaped divot mounted above her nose married the frustration straightening her mouth though concern swirling through green oceans betrayed it. Lowering his gaze, Shayne noted her Gremlins shirt and red striped pants — no pink shirt to swim in.

"Some fucking timing you have," she said, flopping onto the couch next to him. Pitching in, she pinched his chin between her thumb and pointer and dragged his face to her. He stalked her squinted emeralds as they flitted about his face.

"Well, nothing looks wrong, and you didn't hit your head this time." She shoved him away.

"I..." Shayne coughed, air scraping the roof of his mouth. "How long was I out?"

"Twenty minutes. Jesus, you sound bad." Courtney fled the couch and scrambled out of sight. Spinning his head to watch her terrified him, a dull throbbing in his head promising dizzying torment. Instead, his ears tracked her movement through the kitchen. Her footsteps ended. A cupboard creaked. The clattering of glassware perforated his eardrum; a pain barely pacified by the brief cascade of water.

Her footfalls resumed.

"Drink this." Shayne flinched as Courtney thrust a glass of water at him. Heart rate slowing, he saturated his lungs and prepared to grab her offering. He reached for the glass but paused midway.

Tremors overtook his outstretched hand, prompting an emphatic sigh from Courtney.

"Here." Courtney sat down next to him, their knees barely touching. She guided the cup to his lips, tipping it just enough to allow him to take small sips. A whisper snagged on her breath. "I don't remember it being this bad."

A peaceful silence settled between them, her helping him drink while he analyzed the shifting emotions peppering her features. Though softness tipped her actions, harsh angles pointed her expression, taut lines pulling on her face that screamed with annoyance. A spluttered cough now and then would soften the creases to a frail worry, but it never lasted — a defensive shell that Shayne saw right through.

"Thank you," Shayne said after what felt like ages but could have only been a couple of minutes. She retired the half-filled glass to her lap, fingertips drumming along the side. Shayne exhaled, clawing his knees. "I'm sorry. About the kiss. About—"

Water splashed over the rim as Courtney slammed the drink onto the table, splattering the wooden top. She flicked it off before tucking her hands into her lap.

"Seriously Shayne?" Despite the harshness sharpening her scowl, Shayne clung to the anxiety manipulating her digits, her thumbnails cleaving red stripes into white pads. The act begged to be stopped, yet Shayne busied himself with the folds of his pants. His intuition cautioned him not to offer her comfort when Alternate Courtney's touch still haunted his skin. Instead, he weighted himself with air, reinforcing his barriers to withstand the brunt of her misguided outrage.

"I don't know what's worse," she said, a sarcastic laugh trailing her words. "The fact that of all the times to kiss me, you chose now or the fact that kissing me repulsed you so much that you Glimpsed, and don't lie to me; I saw your face when you fainted."

"A little concern would be nice." Shayne stabbed his nails into his thigh. _You didn't repulse me. He did._

"Oh, I'm concerned alright, concerned you've lost your mind."

"Will you at least let me explain?"

"What's there to explain, Shayne?" Words coated Shayne's tongue, yet they never fell, his reply catching on half-assed explanations and superficial apologies better fitted for a hallmark card.

"Well?" She quirked her brows up at him, fingertips playing with her lower lip. The diamond ring flashed around her ring finger, his memories breaching his eyes for a second.

Misplaced heat climbed up his neck and down his arms. His fingertips ached to reach for her, to haul her against his chest and claim her mouth — to claim her. He shuddered. _His feelings, not yours. You're back. You're single. You sure as hell aren't engaged._

"Shayne?" Apprehension sanded the jagged peaks of her annoyance, his name wavering on her lips.

"He did it." Shayne concentrated on the ground, fangs tearing at his chapped lips. "Alternate Shayne, he took control."


	15. Courtney

Fingertips danced around congealed soda splattering the black tabletop, short, manicured nails clicking as Courtney anticipated Damien's arrival. Damien. The reason they had returned to this godforsaken hellhole of a restaurant. At least, Shayne had told her as much when he had stumbled into her room that morning, his words muddied with sleep.

'We're meeting Damien at The Pitstop Diner in a few hours.' The first words he had spoken to her since she locked his car keys in her nightstand table. 

When she pictured Shayne staying the night, she never envisioned it spent in silence, let alone with him clinging to the corner of the couch as if touching her killed. A sentiment that persisted, Shayne sliding into the booth across from her against her request.

That had been ten minutes ago.

Ten minutes of silence. Ten minutes of silence and counting.

Last night, she at least had TV and takeout to distract her, well that and his wandering eyes. They burned her whenever her sight neglected him. Now, he all but refused to acknowledge her, his lifeless blues fixed to the familiar photographs of vintage cars mounted on the walls. Dark circles hung from them, exhaustion hollowing his features. It matched the stiffness tensing his form. _I told you to take the bed._

"I don't get why it has to be here," she said with a huff. Wrinkles creased the bridge of her nose as she peeled her hand from the table. Shayne just shrugged, a scowl contorting his mouth. Her orbs idled, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip. His taste still lingered.

Despite Alternate Shayne initiating the kiss, she still longed for more, for it to be 'her' Shayne taking charge. The need scalded her, a hushed whisper coaxing her to lean over and claim his lips. The public eye and her resolve to keep her hands to herself blocked her.

_Don't forget the contracts._ She groaned. Damien had warned them last night when they called. Their contracts still existed in limbo, waiting to be bought. Why he had mentioned it was beyond her though she had her suspicions.

Sighing, Courtney trained her eyes to the hustle and bustle of the diner, her lips flattening at the familiar face strutting her way.

A point honed Courtney's brow as her eyes locked with Charlie. The waitress stopped in her tracks, eyes widening for a brief moment. With a devilish smirk, Charlie whirled around, beelining it to the back of house.

"Good, go run and hide you little bitch," Courtney muttered, earning a muted chuckle from Shayne. She whipped her head to him, hoping to grab his eye, but his profile greeted her. _Is that all I get? A chuckle?_ A ragged breath escaped her, fingers wringing the hem of her shirt. "Can you stop being mad at me?"

"I'm not mad," he said without looking. 

"Then why won't you — "

"We'll talk later." Water blue eyes discovered hers. White submerged them, red tendrils panicking his sclera. Her lips twitched, stomach plummeting at the display.

Words trapped behind teeth limited her response to a nod.

Yesterday still plagued him. It plagued her. His words played on repeat, their implication of the inevitable haunting the back of her skull. Alternate Courtney lurked inside her. Somewhere.

Watching. _Maybe._

Waiting. 

Waiting to pounce. Waiting to rupture their fragile equilibrium that Alternate Shayne shredded with a kiss. If just a taste tipped the scales...

Alternate Courtney overtaking promised to shatter.

She already felt it. Felt Alternate Courtney altering her behavior. At least, she thought she did. The way her body acted on its own. The voice she heard in the parallel universe, the one warning her about Shayne's disapproval. It stemmed from Alternate Courtney planting her roots in preparation to take over. It had to.

Darkness consumed her, eyelids sealing as she inhaled, following the air down her neck and into shoulders. _Don't think about that. Just breathe. Stay here._ Blood smeared her fangs, her tongue clenched between points. Soothing her wound across the back of her teeth, Courtney swallowed a second of braced breath before allowing brightness to singe her eyes.

A loud thunk punched her ears before her vision registered the books crashing onto the black laminate. Her knees banged the table, frantic greens jerking to the figure towering over her.

"I am so sorry," Damien said, rubbing the back of his neck with an apologetic smile. Blue streaks fringed dark brown bangs, a messy nest just long enough to tickle his eyebrows. "Books are heavy, you know."

"You're late," Shayne said, rapping his fingers on the tabletop. Damien cocked his head, probably perturbed by Shayne's disengagement. Shrugging it off, his coffee-colored eyes rushed between them before a 'V' descended on his brow.

"This would be easier if I could face the both of you." Damien pressed a finger to his lips. Shayne twisted his neck, blue daggers tipped with poison aimed at Damien. _Is sitting next to me really that bad?_ "Courtney, do you mind?" Forearms crossed and fiddling hands tucked in her lap, Courtney ducked her head. She peeked at Shayne through lidded eyes. Nothing. Vacant oceans lost in his drumming digits.

She sighed.

The sticky red leather clung to her plaid pants as she vacated the booth, gumminess adhering to her palms. She wiped it on her legs, smoothing her clothes before stretching out her back. Greens concentrated on her peripheral, assessing Shayne for any sign of reaction, but his withdrawal persisted. Anxiety trickled down her throat, bitterness seeping into her mouth.

She could handle his physical distance, but his mental avoidance slaughtered. _You promised we wouldn't break._ She shook her head, reminding herself that he wasn't mad. That they'd talk later. It didn't prevent the putrid acidity from slathering her tastebuds.

Swiveling to Damien, she noted the confused creases denting his forehead.

"Something I should know?" He motioned to Shayne. Silence answered, prompting Courtney to clasp Damien's shoulder.

Her mouth reached to his ear.

"Just go gentle," she whispered, patting his arm before slipping past him.

"Got it." Damien nodded, sliding into the now vacant seat.

Emeralds skipped over the torn red fabric, hands twisting; she glanced up at Shayne. A brief connection of eyes sparked a flicker of hope. Hope destroyed upon Shayne shriveling into himself, his body merging with the wall. _He's fragile. He needs space. This isn't about you._

Her lungs ached with air as she leveraged the table to sit down. Bottom hanging off the lumpy cushion, her muscles twitched with effort, her flat feet bearing most of her weight. Inch by inch, she crept towards Shayne, careful not to startle him. She halted when the cushion only just supported her enough to be comfortable. A person's width separated them.

Her body ached to scoot closer, to crush her arm against his. After he had held her so close, the barriers keeping her in check almost seemed pointless. Still, she kept her arms tucked to her sides, not wanting to rock the boat, what with Shayne's precarious emotional state.

"So." Damien popped his lips. The sound speared her eardrums; the hairs on her nape rose. Courtney shook it off, adjusting her shirt before fastening her eyes onto Damien. _Stay present._

"Shayne said you have a plan?" Courtney asked Damien, signaling to the pile of books. A few novels topped several thick textbooks. _Quantum Mechanisms for Dummies_ , she read one of the spines.

"Something like that, but first, I need food." Damien snatched a menu from behind the napkin dispenser. "What's good here?"

"Not the service, that's for sure," Courtney stated, greens angling to Shayne. He leaned over the table, his arm extending towards the books. Large fingers caressed one of the larger textbooks, his thumb toying with stray pages. A sad smile cracked her dried chapstick as Shayne retrieved the book, toppling the stack in the process.

"C'mon, it can't be that bad." The brightness of Damien's tone countered the murkiness trapping her stomach -- her anxiety over Shayne's distance. 

"Oh, just you wait." She clucked her tongue, spotting Charlie sauntering towards them.

"Oi, didn't think I'd see you lot back here, and ya brought a mate, did ya?" Courtney cringed, her body inverting upon hearing Charlie's horrendous accent.

"You're Australian now? What? Did the salty southern belle not bring in the tips?" Courtney asked.

"Crikey, you're a hard one to please." Charlie forced a smile, twisting a log of silverware in her hands.

"Maybe try to, I don't know, not be so offensive." Anger gripped Courtney's fists, driving her to fight. Eyes never abandoning Charlie, impulse launched her hand to Shayne's leg. Her fingertips grazed too high, too close. Far more intimate than her instincts intended, a realization made only after his pocketed phone pricked her pads. Or what she hoped was his phone.

Shayne bolted upright. Metal scraping tile pierced the air as the table rocketed forward, pinning Damien in place. Shayne's fists slammed the table with a force that rattled the framed photos on the wall.

Courtney wrenched her hand back, eyes flashing to his. Raw panic darkened into something intangible. Something that fluttered her stomach. Something that she attributed to her mind playing games. Something that screamed Alternate Shayne.

"Woah, you okay, there bud?" Damien asked, nervous laughter hitching on his breath.

The red engulfing Shayne's face faded, fangs sawing his lower lip as his half-lidded eyes dragged over her. _Maybe, it's not my mind._ With the short burst of panic electrifying his blues, she couldn't tell.

"Oh, I'm fine. Some minx here, can't keep her hands to herself." A huskiness scraped his tone; his soft edges grated into rough gravel. It tingled the nape of her neck and pricked her skin with arousal.

"Sorry?" Her shoulders kissed her earlobes, embarrassment shaping her smile. Much too flustered to come up with a proper response.

Charlie's giggles stabbed her eardrums, and through the corner of her eye, she identified the confusion distorting Damien's face. It didn't matter. The still standing Shayne bothered her.

He angled towards her, hands rubbing down his thighs. His tongue darting past his lips scorched a fire down her body. She had expected anger, disapproval, or repulsion, something other than the hunger dripping from his breath.

"Don't be." Shayne sat down next to her. Their shoulders brushed. His heat penetrated through her shirt. She clamped her hands between her knees for safekeeping.

Forcing her attention from Shayne, she absorbed Charlie and Damien's reaction. Amusement charmed Charlie's features, though a devious quality freckled her eyes. On the other hand, enjoyment overwhelmed Damien's confusion. She frowned, watching Damien give Shayne a thumbs up and a wink. _Of course, you're team Shourtney._

"Aren't they just the cutest, mate?" Charlie chimed in as she pivoted to Damien. The silverware in her hand clattered onto his placemat in a giant heap.

"I see what you mean about the bad service," Damien said, a shit-eating smirk whipping his face.


	16. Courtney

"Journals. Your idea is journals? What are we, twelve?" Gravel corroded the edges of Shayne's voice. His insulting tone rattled Courtney to the core though she refused to let it show. The table hid her fingers plucking at the frayed leather underneath her. Red strands that she coiled around her pointer finger until its white pad grew scarlet. It distracted from her heart clogging her throat.

Sporadic beats hiked the lump closer to her mouth. Each throb echoed in her ear, blood gushing through vessels almost louder than the world.

The person next to her wasn't Shayne. Not completely. Behind the egotistical monster crushed against her, she still caught glimpses of the man she knew. Freckled terror cloaked behind eclipsed eyes. Familiar nervous laughter parted his lips now and then. Every once in a while, his voice polished out; his words quaked. Little slivers of her Shayne shining through.

Slivers not seen since they had finished eating.

"Hey now, I'm doing you a favor, Bud," Damien said, "and if you had been listening to me, instead of ogling your little girlfriend over there, maybe you would've heard the other stages." With Damien oblivious to the Alternate Shayne situation, Courtney struggled to discern if he noticed Shayne's distorted behavior. The over the top, almost cruel mocking appeared to throw Damien, but the ear-to-ear amusement sparking his face obscured any inherent concern. It had ever since Shayne's hand started tracing circles on her shoulder.

Attempts to extract herself resulted in Shayne hauling her into his chest.

His possessiveness iced her skin. Shayne's body angling into her as he sagged against the booth, his arms sprawled across it like he owned the place. Like he owned her. Any man or woman foolish enough to let their eyes stray saw Shayne's hand on her knee and the promise of death in his eyes.

She hated it. Hated the thought of being owned. Hated the sheer cockiness of his claim. Hated the fact that, despite it contesting everything she stood for as a woman, she couldn't deny the passion rousing her skin.

"And maybe, if you weren't so God damn boring, I'd actually pretend to care." Shayne cocked his head at Damien, eyebrows raised, a smug simper tainting his lips. The red cord binding Courtney's finger snapped. She jerked her hand, backhanding his stomach. Shayne just snickered, feather-light fingers tip-toeing over thin tank top straps and across her collarbone. Courtney speared her teeth into her lip, nails gouging the cushion. She fought her eyes as they tried to flutter closed.

"Guys, I'm right here," Damien said with an apprehensive chuckle. His fingers pulled on the collar of his navy shirt. Courtney offered Damien an apologetic smile before honing her orbs into knives that sliced through Shayne. She nudged her shoulder to jostle his hold. Shayne groaned but withdrew his hand to the top of the booth.

"Where's that bimbo, anyway?" Shayne craned his neck to scavenge the room.

"Shayne." Courtney jabbed his side.

"What? It's not like we can have much fun here with this twat watching." Shayne clucked his tongue, his palms to the ceiling, fingers spreading for emphasis. A perverted smirk corrupted his face.

"Hey now, you were the one wanting to meet, Shayne, and last minute too. I had to cancel a stream for this, you know." Damien pushed his plate to the side, remnants of burger speckling the white ceramic disk. "But, if you're going to be this way, maybe it's best that I leave." Damien planted his hands on the table, readying to stand. "I can... I'll just email you the form I need you to follow that way I can streamline things, because, you know, I'm a good friend who actually cares."

"Form?" Courtney interjected as Damien stood up.

"It will make identifying the common elements between your Glimpses easier," Damien answered, still glaring at Shayne.

Courtney heeded Shayne tensing up. The thud of his foot stomping the ground warned of his intention. She reached to pacify him. Her fingertips grazed his bicep, his soft, green cotton T-shirt just kissing her skin before being whisked away.

Shayne's palms smacked the tabletop.

"That's it? You brought us to this God awful Diner just to tell us to write diaries?" Shayne's voice challenged the room tone as he bolted upright.

"I chose this place for a reason, Shayne, but now that you've apparently gotten laid, I doubt that even matters. Do you even care about these Glimpses, or are you just happy to get your dick wet?"

"BOYS!" Courtney hammered the table as she shot to her feet. Plates clattered, and silverware clinked; their drinks splattered on the black counter.

A fork clanked on the floor.

Silence.

Eyes scorched her back, patrons spinning to check out the commotion. Courtney disregarded them.

Hand curling around Shayne's forearm, she urged him to sit, but he resisted, his chest heaving. Shayne's agitated blues lowered.

"Can we just play nice and finish this meeting like adults?" She fastened her eyes to Shayne. A flash of panic — of her Shayne — swirled through his oceans. His lips shuddered, a jittery breath chopping the air.

"Shayne?" she whispered. It vanished. Replaced by dark, hooded eyes that seared her.

Snorting, Shayne flopped onto the seat. "Just try to be less dull, will ya Bud?" he sneered. His arms once again lounged across the booth, a canine snagging his lip. Courtney sighed, plopping down next to him.

"Damien?" She shifted to Damien, and he hunkered down with a huff.

"Oh, I'm fine; your boyfriend's the one with the issue," Damien said, quirking an eyebrow at Shayne. Goosebumps breached her skin, Shayne's arm sliding behind her. His grip descended her curves to seize her waist, thumb caressing the side of her breast. _What. The. Fuck._ "And, the wandering hands." Shayne raised his palms in mock surrender, smugness tipping his expression.

"Okay, Damien, I know you don't mean it, but that attitude isn't helping. And me and him?" Courtney said, pointing between her and Shayne. "Still very much single, thank you." She twisted at the waist, her elbow on the table, annoyance barbing her brows.

"And you," — She dug her finger into Shayne's pec. — "I need you to play along. No hands. No smart mouth. Just sit and look pretty. Do you think you can do that? Or do I need to cuff you to the table? Because I'll find a way."

"I mean, it's usually you in the cuffs — " Courtney elbowed him, hard.

"Sorry about him," she said, striving to play it off, "he didn't get much sleep."

"Yeah, 'cause lack of sleep turns you into a total horn dog," Damien said, a skeptic simper toying with his lips. "Look, clearly something is going on between you two. I don't know what it is, and, to be honest, I don't really care. Just figure it out before my eyes burn."— Damien slid out from the booth. — "I'm going to hit the head."

Courtney tracked Damien as he disappeared to the restrooms, trying her best to ignore the fingers strolling up her ribs. Slapping the pompous ass next to her appealed to her more than ever now. _Shayne's still in there, remember._ Rolling her shoulders, she pried his hand from her.

"Okay, Shayne told me you were an asshole, but this." She waved her hands over Shayne. "This is something else."

"Oh, he talked about me, did he?" A smirk contorted Shayne's face. "Did he tell you how he —" She clamped her hand over Shayne's mouth. The reflex surprised her.

"Not. A. Word." She scrunched her nose as he licked her palm. "As desperate as I am to know what happened, and believe me, after what I saw yesterday, I'm dying to know. That's something my Shayne needs to tell me and not you."

A crimson heat consumed her as the memory flitted across her mind. She had been pacing when she noticed it. Her emeralds roaming Shayne's unconscious form sprawled across her couch. Innocent until her eyes had ventured below, and a tent had caught her attention. Not daring to question Shayne about it, she had tried her best to block it out, plus after her first Glimpse, she had no right to judge.

"Is that why you won't tell Damien about me? Because that baby can't handle it?" Shayne blinked in disbelief. Courtney sighed. _This is going nowhere._ Inching closer, she grasped Shayne's face, green lining up with blue until their noses almost met. His stubble scratched her palms, thumbs brushing the corners of his lips. She pressed their foreheads together, careful to restrain his wanting mouth from hers.

"Shayne, I know you're in there right now," she said, overlooking the devilish glint distorting Shayne's face. "I've seen you. I still see you. I'm here, but I need you here with me too. I need you to come back to me." He snaked Shayne's arm around her waist, drawing her against him. His large fingers enclosed hers on his cheeks.

His lips crashed into hers.

_STOP THIS!_

Ready to force him off, Courtney yanked her hands to his chest. Instead, her fingertips hooked into his shirt in a brief moment of weakness. _This isn't Shayne, remember?_

Her palms slammed into Shayne's pecs.

"Single my ass," Damien said right as she broke the kiss. Taking a second to recuperate, she sealed her eyes and counted each breath in. The booth stirred underneath her. _Probably just Shayne sitting up._

Drying her mouth with her wrist, Courtney redirected to Damien and said, "I swear I can — "

"Fuck," Shayne coughed out. She reeled her head to him.

Her heart dived into her stomach.

Terrified blues stared into her; his lips trembled. His entire form trembled. With a jagged gasp escaping his mouth, Shayne collapsed.

Courtney rocketed to his side.

Her body enveloped Shayne, arm draping across his broad shoulders, while her other hand clutched his bicep. Shayne's battered sobs vibrated through her.

_Back. He's back.  
_

_-.-.-.-.-.-  
_

Courtney stumbled over a warped, wooden floorboard as she exited Shayne's room. Despite visiting numerous times, the raised trim never failed to topple her. Usually, it earned her a hearty chuckle and an eye-lighting smile from Shayne and not this torturous silence.

Tentative hands drew the door closed, pausing for a moment to peak inside one last time. Just to double-check he still breathed. Through the darkness, she identified his silhouette perched atop his bed, knees clutched to his chest. Her gut screamed at her to barge back in, to secure him in her arms until his panic settled, but Shayne had kicked her out the second his ability to speak had set in.

The door shut with a faint click, a rueful smile painting Courtney's face. It'll all be okay. Staring down the short hall, the edges of Shayne's open kitchen greeted her. Flickering lights and the rhythm of chatting. Damien had the TV on.

Getting Shayne situated had taken longer than expected, and his refusal to talk had only hindered it further. Minutes of his stillness and her floundered words. Words that barely skimmed the surface. She had persisted until his breathing stabilized, and she couldn't use his unstable condition to justify her presence. A truth that omitted her desire to avoid Damien and the awkward discussion that awaited her. A truth that omitted her desire to be near Shayne.

With a profound sigh, Courtney trudged forward until she occupied the space between the faux wood cabinets that lined Shayne's kitchen and a floor to ceiling mirror. Haunted eyes reflected at her. Rubbed off make-up revealed the exhaustion creasing her face. Hollow cheeks and headless pimples, the physical manifestation of the last 24 hours — of the emotional turmoil she suffered through.

Her fingertips kissed themselves, the cold glass smooth against their pads. She wiped them across her image before pushing off the mirror. A few strides forward landed her where an island marked the threshold to Shayne's living room.

An alcove to her right hid a bookshelf crammed with paperbacks, their spines curved and covers frayed. Sticky notes dotted several books, with a faded copy of The Catcher in the Rye containing the most. She extracted it from the shelf, flipping through the doggy-eared pages. _Will it still be your favorite after this? Will you still be you?_

Shaking the thought from her head, she turned to Shayne's couch. The worn, blue material sagged under Damien's weight as he hunched over a book. The stack from the Diner rested on the coffee table in front of him.

Courtney rapped her knuckles against the wall.

Damien jumped from the sofa, slamming the book shut. His startled hands fumbled, and the book toppled to the ground. With a tense chuckle, he pivoted to her.

"I guess that's payback, huh?" Damien arched an eyebrow, a forced smile tightening his lips. Without the energy to return it, Courtney sank against the wall.

"Something like that," Courtney said. She towed her fingers over the tall, wooden table next to her, tempted to climb onto one of the matching stools. Joining Damien jeopardized her fragile constitution; not to mention, explaining Shayne's behavior without violating her promise seemed impossible.

"He's stable for now, just shaken." Unable to trust her legs, Courtney abandoned the table's safety.

"I can go if you want to be with him." Damien gathered the book from the floor and deposited it on the table.

"He wants space, so?" She shrugged from the outskirts of the coffee table. Her side to Damien, she stared off at the television. Steins;Gate projected from the screen, one of the few anime she had watched with Shayne. She snatched the remote resting next to the book and turned it off. Those days seemed miles away now.

"You want to sit down and tell me what's going on?" Damien breached the air. "Because I've seen him after a Glimpse, and that. That wasn't it. And don't give me that lack of sleep load of crap."

A sticky muteness clogged the room. Damien's fingers drumming on the blue fabric bounced against the walls. It echoed with her heart, an unbalanced beat that quickened with each passing second. Her eyes darted to the hallway, still longing to retreat.

"Courtney?" Worried brown orbs pleaded with her; his brows wrinkled with concern. Courtney dipped her sights to the ground. Fingers picking at her leggings, she snapped the material against her leg. Damien deserved honesty, yet her promise to Shayne bound her tongue.

"I just want to help." The heavy sigh that accompanied Damien's words tested her conviction, chiseling away at her sealed lips. _This is for his own good_ , she justified herself.

"That person at the Diner. That wasn't Shayne," Courtney squatted down next to Damien.

"I don't —"

"Understand? I don't either, but it happened yesterday too. Briefly. Right, before he..." Courtney trailed off, eyes withdrawing to her fingers dawdling across the blue threads. _Don't pluck. Don't ruin it._

"So, who I just met was?"

"Alternate Shayne. His soul. Or conscious Or whatever." — She took a deep breath. — "He was so shattered last night. Afterwards. I picked up what I could, but well, you saw him." Courtney pinched the cushion, her emeralds drifting towards Shayne's bedroom. "I want to help him, but I..." She swallowed the tears climbing up her throat, but they still clung to her eyelashes.

"And how are you holding up?" Damien squeezed her shoulder. It lacked the comforting heat that Shayne's touch provided, though it still granted a small reassurance.

"Better than him, that's for sure." A sad laugh parted her lips. "He's been so patient with me, and yet last night I..." She lifted her eyes to the ceiling to prevent her tears from leaking. "When he returned, I was just so frustrated I... I didn't see how broken —"

"Courtney." Damien squeezed her shoulder. "This isn't your fault. With everything that's happened over the last month, over the last day, you're allowed to be angry. Hell, I'm angry."

"I know. It's just. I thought meeting with you would sort things out, that it would help. It's why I pressed to rush it. Not him. He wanted to run home and hide. Maybe he was right." She blinked back her tears, wiping them away with the heel of her palm. "Maybe I sprinted when I needed to crawl, but guess it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Well, I, for one, am glad you called. You two aren't alone in this. You got me, you know? And he might not be in a state to hear it, but if you're open to it, I can fill you in on what I learned. It's not a lot mind you, but it's something." He motioned to the pile of books. "And you can fill me in on what you've figured out."

"I think I'd like that."

-.-.-.-.-

"Damien just left," Courtney's said, her body halfway between Shayne's bedroom and the hall.

He gazed up at the ceiling; arms spread across his bed in a 'T' shape. The rise and fall of his chest came at a methodical pace, each breath taken with thought.

"Can I come in?"

Silence.

Sighing, Courtney secured the door behind her and perched herself on the corner of his bed. Her fingertips rested by his ankle, just millimeters from touching. He turned from her, not fast enough. She still witnessed the tears still recognized his despair.

"I tried to stop him," Shayne said, his words wavering on his breath. "Trapped. Trapped in my own skull, just watching his hands. The way he." She walked her fingers over his cuffed jeans, careful not to graze his exposed skin. It didn't matter. Shayne still rolled onto his side, his back facing her.

"You should go."


	17. Shayne

Scattered light breached the darkness enveloping Shayne's small but organized room. Tiny beams that emanated from the slivers of window his black curtains neglected to cover. The glow breaching the perimeter of his closed-door outlined Courtney's silhouette from her post on the corner of his bed.

"You should go," Shayne said, snatching the corner of his faux fur blanket. He bound himself up in it as he turned from her.

The mattress absorbed his side, his muscles sinking into the lumpy cushion. He wished it would consume him completely and allow him to disappear.

Breath trapped behind teeth, Shayne heeded the shadows convulsing on his wall. Fat blotches that tapered into elongated fingers stretched and undulated across off-white paint. _He's coming_ , they promised. A wet gasp tore his lips, heart hammering his ribcage — rapid, irregular bursts. Eyes piercing his skull accompanied the flames scalding his calves.

"Courtney, please, before." Shayne choked, fresh tears trampling the dried streaks painting his cheeks. "He. I can't stop him. Returning. He'll." His speech jumbled, words catching on his timid sobs. Fear corrupted his coherency. Disjointed threads fraying on the ends that her kindness mended.

Kindness that overwhelmed with disgust. Disgust that she still stomached his presence. Disgust at himself for permitting her to remain. Disgust at the blaze scorching his skin.

Two layers. Two layers of thick denim and Courtney's touch still burned. Warmth radiated from the cuff of his jeans, disseminating up his muscles to quiet his heart. A comfort ruined for him the moment Alternate Shayne put her in danger — the moment he enabled it. His heart constricted. _I should have been stronger._

_1, 2, 3._ Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. Inhaling, Shayne downed the salt barring his throat. He sealed his eyes to monitor the erratic drumming in his chest. Skipped beats danced to a hastened rhythm. Counting his breathing, he willed his heart to steady into a trustworthy rhythm.

"I told you to leave." He kicked at her hand to emphasize the risk of lingering.

"Shayne." Her fingers ceased. The imminent release of success cut short when her hand flattened over his ankle.

Shayne jerked his leg away, tucking into a ball.

The burning stopped.

"Go. Before it's too late." His threat wavered on clogged tears.

Silence tensed his chest, lungs stilling in wait for her occupancy to empty and the bed to elevate. Seconds turned to minutes turned to hours. A figment. A hallucination. The unchanging shadows on the wall told him so. Time still existed, just distorted.

Her pressure vanished.

The relief of her vacancy never arrived. No. It instead strangled his heart, twine coiling around until each beat throbbed for her, for her comfort. For her reassurance that their friendship survived. _Like I deserve it._ Shayne hugged himself tighter, smaller, anticipating her footfalls to start and the door to creak open with a muttered farewell.

It never came.

The mattress sank beneath him, closer to his hips this time. He wiggled away until his body teetered on the edge. In his head, she copied, and her affection enveloped him. In his head, her arms sheltered him. In his head, the Diner never occurred, and their balance prevailed.

Shayne peered over his shoulder. Her back faced him, hunched over with her feet on the floor. Straight arms glued to her waist; hands planted on either side of her bore no weight. A curtain of blonde shielded her profile, her neck craning to glance at him. His sapphires retreated before their eyes met.

A dejected sigh wet his ears. _Crying, she's been crying, and it's my fault._ Shayne clamped his lips between his fangs, praying his muteness deterred her from persisting. A displacement of mass evoked a fragmented hope that swelled in his chest and forced his anxiety up his throat.

"Damien thinks this has to do with some theory." Her solemn tone smashed the fragments into minuscule shards. "The Many Worlds Theory, he called it or something like that. Something about choices and infinite possibilities." 

"I tried to listen, but I couldn't stop thinking about you. About how you would've known exactly what he was talking about. About how you would've torn through that book of his in seconds. About how the person I found in here might not be you." Her voice trailed into a thin, inaudible murmur at the end.

A slight wind frisked his back. The bed stirred. _Did she just shake her head?_

"He left it here for you. The book, that is," Courtney said.

"You told him, didn't you? That's why he doesn't hate me. That's why he left it." Her substantial movement piqued his curiosity. Over his shoulder, he witnessed her lean against his headboard, legs gathered to her chest, her arms fastening them in place. Her green orbs latched to his.

Little puddles billowed over her emerald eyes, waves cresting with each faltered breath. Gleamings of light tipped their peaks. He followed their descent to her hands. Her palm smoothed down her shin to the bed, fingers crawling across the sheets. They grazed him where his body intersected the mattress.

Shayne flinched, eyes reverting to the wall. He shriveled into himself.

"I had to." The trembles of fear mangling her voice annihilated him, his nails slicing his shins. "Don't hate me." _It's you who should hate me._

Grunting, Shayne licked the bitterness from his teeth. Making her promise not to tell Damien had been foolish, but with Alternate Shayne's presence being so new, he had panicked. What if it had been a onetime thing? What if it was just him going crazy? He had wanted answers before letting Damien in on Alternate Shayne. Despite having his explanations, the sting of her broken promise still prompted his tears to fall.

With Shayne unable to muster a response, a somber silence suffocated the room. Dabbing his tears away with his faux fur blanket, he focused on the shadows writhing across his wall. _He's still inside you_ , they whispered. Pulse accelerating, his heart surged to his throat. Shallow breaths overtook his even breathing. His stomach clenched, bile creeping into the back of his mouth. He gulped it down and slammed his eye shut.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Do you wanna talk me through what happened?" Courtney asked after what seemed like ages. Despite the panic still plaguing his cognizance, the pounding of his heart no longer grieved him.

 _If you talk about it, maybe she'll leave._ With a long inhale, Shayne composed himself.

"I hadn't heard him since last night, he," Shayne said. "The second we stepped into the Diner he spoke up. Idling in wait or just bad timing, I'm not sure. Just walked in and he sounded. Curious at first, then angry. He hates that place." Shayne flopped on to his back with a dry chuckle. He wiped his hand over his face. "He saw you, and God, it was like a magnet. My body tingled. My fingers itched to touch. He itched to touch." He clenched and unclenched his fists.

"I thought sitting across from you would help. Get some distance just in case, but you." Shayne's heart plunged, recalling the hurt on her face when he refused to slide in next to her. "He hated seeing you upset. I mean, I don't like it either, but he." Shayne concealed his eyes with his forearm, a cynical snort escaping him. "I swear, if he could've punched me, he would have in a heartbeat."

"Then Damien came. The second he saw him, I knew I fucked up." Shayne troubled his head, training his sight on the wall. "That was payback."

"Payback?" Courtney interjected, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"I may have ruined Alternate Damien's one chance at working for Smosh, and now their friendship is on the fritz," he squeaked, shaking off her hand.

"We'll talk about that later, but go on," she said.

"Then your hand... You reached for me. He just took." Shayne balled his hands in his shirt. "Forced to watch him paw at you. I screamed. Screamed for him to stop. Screamed at my hands to obey me. Screamed to be free. He just laughed." Shayne shuddered, the irritating rasp of Alternate Shayne's maniacal laughter echoed inside his skull. His palms crushed his ears, trying to terminate the remnants of Alternate Shayne's haunting call.

"He's not even here right now, and I can still hear him. His voice. Mocking me. Telling me all the things he wants to do to you." Shayne swallowed the corrosive substance tainting building in his gullet. "It's why you need to leave. It's not safe." Shayne stabbed his ears. "I'm not safe, not anymore. Not without eyes to hold him back. Not alone."

"I can handle myself, Shayne."

 _No, you can't._ He whipped around, hands jerking from his head to snatch her calf.

Shayne's fingertips scraped as they encircled Courtney's ankle. He wrenched her down the bed, careful not to use his full strength. With her supine across the bed, Shayne climbed on top of her and yanked her wrists above her head. He pinned them there as he sat on her hips. Their eyes connected.

Fire danced across her emerald pools, a hot, hunger and not the fear he expected. Tracing her features, he hesitated on her flushed cheeks before descending to her parted lips.

Breath hitching in her throat, soft, heated pants warmed his lips. Her hips wiggled underneath him, inciting a stifled groan from him.

 _You're not supposed to like this._ Shayne dug his claws into her, strengthening his grip until the pleasure on her face contorted with pain. Guilt erupted into his mouth, a caustic liquid that corroded his tongue, but he endured it. He needed her to recognize Alternate Shayne's threat.

Even if it involved scaring her.

"Really? Then try to overpower me," Shayne growled. Hips lifting from her, he crossed his ankles, anchoring her thighs with his shins. She stilled beneath him; her eyes fixed to his. The patterned rise-and-fall of her chest intimated her breathing leveling out. _I don't deserve your trust._

"I'm not scared of him," Courtney stated, determination narrowing her eyes. _You should be._

"Fight me," he demanded, cleaving his nails into her flesh. She bit back a cry of pain. It punctured his stomach, pleading with him to stop, but he disregarded it. She needed to understand. "I said, fight me!" He slammed her wrists into the mattress.

A chaos of flailing limbs writhed underneath him as Courtney squirmed to be free. Nails grating his knuckles etched white lines across his skin. It tickled. Though her actions grew more frantic, the trust in her eyes never faded, and fear never reared its head almost as if she knew he was holding back.

Even with Courtney at her strongest, her kicks and punches never landed; his restraints never faltered.

"You win," Courtney surrendered, her voice quivering on her breath.

"I'm sorry." Shayne ducked his eyes. Slow and careful, he freed her hands, his fingertips smoothing across her skin. They dwelled on the bruises just starting to form. A ring of red circled the heel of her palm. His stomach churned.

"You're strong, Courtney, but not that strong." He rolled off of her and onto his side. "Go... Before I hurt you." A lump built in his throat. It throbbed, climbing up until it suffocated him.

"I think it's a little late for that," Courtney scoffed.

Shayne glanced over his shoulder and winced. Her back faced him as she kneeled on the bed. Blonde locks failed to screen her face as it distorted with discomfort. Squinting, he detected her massaging her wrist. Her hands clutched to her chest as she rubbed the bruise away. He cringed, hearing her hiss with pain.

She slid her legs over the bed.

His stomach plummeted, head twisting back to the wall. _It was for the best. To make you see._ The lump in his esophagus expanded into his eyes and mouth. _I didn't want to hurt you._

"He'll do worse. He'll make me do worse." Choked sobs obscured his words, the mass in his throat breaching his mouth. "Make you hate me." He coughed, sending strings of mucus spluttering from his mouth.

Chest heaving, tears overwhelmed him upon her weight lifting from the bed. Leaving. He frightened her away. Leaving. _It's for her protection. She's better off without you. Damien will take care of her._

The mattress depressed, stiffening his muscles. _Why won't you leave?_

Courtney's hand soothed his waist, fingers denting his skin — a soundless reassurance.

Shayne recoiled, but her hand settled.

"You should hate me," he sobbed. Her affection withdrew, wringing his heart. _You do hate me._ He waited for her pressure to depart, but it crept closer. Briefly elevating his head, he observed her crawling towards him. His heart bounded in his chest.

A wave of comfort crashed over him upon feeling Courtney's warmth against his back. Draping her arm over him, her delicate hand hunted for his meaty digits. Courtney intertwined their fingers.

"My first glimpse, he," Courtney said, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. Propping her head against where her lips had just been, she took a deep breath in. "I woke up in the middle of a shoot. His hand was under my skirt. The table hid it. Afterwards, I ran. I needed air, needed to get some space, but I couldn't find the elevators. Somehow, I ended up in a closet with him pressed against me."

"So he already?" Shayne whimpered.

"NO!" She clutched him closer, hand detaching from his to flatten against his pec. "God no, he may be an asshole, but he's still you. He still stopped. The second that I said no, he stopped."

"He didn't stop at the Diner." Shayne tried to jostle her off, but she tightened her embrace.

"I didn't want him to, not completely," she confessed, drawing shapes into his chest. Her nervous hands set his body on fire. He captured them to hinder her, his thoughts sprinting around his brain. She wanted Alternate Shayne to touch her. Did that mean she wanted him to kiss her too? _Do you want me?_

"Didn't want him to?"

"There's something I need to tell you," Courtney sighed, withdrawing. The lack of comfort stalled his heart, but Shayne withstood it, concentrating on her pressure compressing his mattress. He felt her shift against him until he presumed they laid back-to-back. "I. In that closet, after things settled. He." She paused. "He looked just like you. Of course, he did, but he felt like you too. Safe. I just, I wanted to know what it would be like. What we would be like."

Shayne shimmied around to face her back. Not wanting to encroach on her personal space, he maintained an arms-length from her, though his body craved to close the distance. Powerless to withhold his hand from reaching out, he traced her waist with his finger, feather-light touches that seared his calloused skin.

"It was a slip of judgment. A mistake. It's why I ghosted you. I didn't think I could hold myself back, not with knowing how your lips felt against mine." Shayne seized her waist. _She kissed me. Him. She..._ His mind spiraled. The implication. The barriers.

_She's been fighting this too._

"I know you don't want this. I mean it took Alternate Shayne taking over you just to kiss me, but now I'm making this about me, and — "

"Hey." He tugged Courtney onto her back. His hand lingered on her waist, his eyes searching hers. "Who said I didn't want this?"  
  
  
  



	18. Shayne

"Who said I didn't want this?" Shayne asked, his arm draped across her stomach as he held her waist.

A heated silence overwhelmed the room as sapphire eyes drowned in emerald oceans.

Speechless, he had left her speechless.

Shayne's heart swelled, pride building up within him as he fixated on Courtney. This, he caused this. The red passion tinting her cheeks. The stuttered breaths warming his lips. The want swirling in her eyes. All for him. A possessive growl escaped his mouth, prompting him to clamp his mouth shut. _What the fuck was that?_ He shook it off, too enamored with the spectacle below him to address the foreign possessiveness pulsing through his veins.

Propping his weight on his elbow, Shayne handled her with caution to avoid her still-healing scar as he flattened his palm against the point where her waist and ribcage joined. The coarse pads of his fingers kneaded circles into her velvety skin, tips slipping just under her crop-top.

Though unintentional at first, Courtney's stifled gasp encouraged him, his thumb swiping up again to entice a response from her. Courtney gazed up at him, her lips pressed in thought. He lowered his hand, stilling his wandering fingers. _Did I read her wrong? Does she not like me like that?_

"Courtney?" Shayne spoke up when her muteness persisted. He shifted backwards, offering her space to remove herself if required. "Tell me you want this too, because I can back off if you don't." He started to retract his hand, but she snatched it, securing it in place.

"This is where you're supposed to kiss me, you idiot." Courtney's giggling eased the tension suffocating his gut, but a fluttering of wings replaced it. Shayne ducked his head to shield the crimson consuming his cheeks.

Fingerpads scorched a path up his arm, pausing at his bicep to give it a sharp squeeze. Shayne flexed on impulse. Courtney chuckled, driving him to flex once more. His cerulean orbs locked onto hers, a nervous smile playing on his lips.

With her handprint branded into his muscle, her passion ventured higher, scalding his shoulder through his shirt before finding purchase behind his neck. Her fingertips dented into him as she jerked him towards her until his face hovered inches above hers.

"Then again, taking the initiative never was your strong suit," she said, beaming up at him.

Before Shayne could muster a flubbed retort, she kissed him. Soft heat enveloped his lips, tentative strokes too brief to be reciprocated.

Sparkling greens engulfed him when she leaned back. Her parted lips lifted into a blinding smile.

He detached his hand from her waist, his palm ascending her curves to cup her jaw. Curious, his thumb grazed her bottom lip, its calloused pad hooking the tender flesh. Her tongue flicked out to taste him, her emeralds darkening. A smirk toyed with Shayne's mouth as he dipped to brush his lips against hers in another hesitant kiss. Despite its brevity, electricity danced between their mouths and surged down his body to his toes.

His lips crashed into hers. Hot, heavy, hungry. Yearning to be closer, his hand slid from her face. Soft blue cotton sheets carded through his fingers as he planted his palm next to her head to support himself. Without a second thought, Shayne climbed on top of her. She gasped into him as he — for balance — wedged his knee between hers, careful not to press too high. Moving too fast terrified him. Once settled, his other hand found the delicate skin of her waist, greedy fingerpads digging into her flesh.

Courtney's hands tangled in his hair; frantic and needy, she hauled him closer, nails scraping against his neck. He smoothed his hand up her abdomen, following the swell of her breast to cup her jaw, causing her to groan against his mouth. Feeling her arch into him, Shayne just chuckled.

"Slow," he muttered against her lips, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. She eagerly granted him access, their tongues battling for control. Teeth clanked together, and for a moment, the room faded away as Shayne lost himself to her.

The hand cradling her chin descended her neck; his feather-light touches tracked each divet and bone encountered. Fingertips caressed down her clothed chest to seize her exposed waist once more. He massaged her in time with his mouth, thumb grazing the base of her breast under her shirt. A gasp escaped her lips, breaking the kiss for a split second. Soft, breathy pants tumbled from her lips as her hooded emeralds fastened to his blue eyes.

Courtney leaned up and captured his mouth once more.

Nails scratching red into his skin, Courtney traced his neck before plunging her hand between them. She grabbed his hand, jerking it up to cover her breast. Running on instincts, Shayne caressed her through her bra, eliciting a moan that vibrated into his mouth. Fire pricked his fingers, urging him to tear the offending article off, to strip her bare and take her. FUCK. _Did I really just think that?_ Startled, Shayne withdrew his hand, fisting the sheets beside her waist.

He braced himself, muscles tensing as he fought the ache to press into her. Nipping her at her bottom lip, he funneled his frustration into her lips. The urge to kiss was his. He knew that much.

"Shayne." Courtney pulled back, hints of worry clouding the hunger drowning her eyes.

"Sorry, I guess I got carried away." Shayne extracted himself, stooping his head. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his breathing shallow. Nostrils flaring, his eyes lingered on her swollen, cherry lips and the scarlet coloring her face. Her once well-groomed hair, a disheveled mess, fanned out across the pillow. Shayne tucked a strand behind her ear, stroking her cheek before yanking his hand back.

"No, I want this. I just, I need to know that you're in this one hundred percent, that you're not just doing this for me." Courtney bolstered herself on her elbow, stretching her free hand out to intertwine their fingers. She drew him towards her, but Shayne resisted.

"It's not that," Shayne said with a sigh. He folded his legs, heels digging into his butt. "How do I know what I'm feeling is me, and not some side-effect of Alternate Shayne? I mean, I know I like you. I have for a long time. Longer than this stupid Parallel Universe crap that's been happening. But these urges? That was our first proper kiss. We haven't even had a first date, and I just want to rip your clothes off. That's not me, Courtney. That's not—"

"Look at me," Courtney instructed, her voice firm yet cautious. Gnawing on his lip, Shayne glanced up at her just to shy away upon seeing the concern troubling her features.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she sat up, tucking her legs to mirror Shayne's position. Comforting heat encased Shayne as she clutched his face between her palms, her fingertips brushing the corners of his eyes. Foreheads pressed together and their noses millimeters from meeting, Courtney fixed her eyes to his and squinted. Shayne exhaled, tension melting as he sank into her green lakes.

"The darkness isn't there," she said after what felt like hours but could have only been a minute or two. Leaving one hand on his cheek, Courtney stroked down his neck to flatten her palm against his heart. Beats bounced in response to her warmth before settling into a steady rhythm. "You feel like you. Sound like you. Your mind may be mangled, but right now, you are you." Her palm soothed his cheek, thumb painting circles into his skin. Eyes still secured to hers, his hand encompassed her fingers, his thick digits slotting between her thin ones.

"I'm sorry; I know you probably wanted more than this." Shayne rested his head on her shoulder.

"I want whatever you want, and if that's to take things slow, we'll take things slow." Courtney tilted his chin up to look at her. "If that means waiting until that head of yours only holds you, so be it."

"And what if that doesn't happen?" Shayne asked, balling up the sheets with his free hand.

"We'll find a way." 

Moonlight filtered through slotted blinds, speckling with stars that danced across Shayne's living room as Courtney and Shayne snuggled on his couch. Little dots shimmered off every surface they encountered, reflecting off his mirror to coat his furniture and kiss Courtney's hair.

Shayne leafed his fingers through her blonde tresses, fingertips endeavoring to capture the light. The glimmer eluded him time-and-time again, but he persevered, powerless to restrain himself with her tucked under his arm. With her being his. Shayne gnawed his lip until hot crimson seeped into his mouth. Not his. She belonged to no one. _You can't own a person, not like that._

Swallowing the alien possessiveness, Shayne willed himself to stay present, desperate to cherish the rare normalcy encompassing the room.

The dull hum of traffic echoed through his apartment, though Shayne failed to notice it over the infectious cadence of Courtney's laughter. It reverberated through his neck as she pressed against him. Her body angled towards him, Courtney laid with folded legs, the soles of her feet grazing the armrest as she draped an arm across his stomach. Her fingers hooked into his shirt.

A grin greeted his lips as he kissed her hair. _Remind me to thank her dad for keeping Jango overnight._

Flickering lights painted Courtney's face in a variety of colors as she watched an outdated comedy on TV. Shayne neglected the film in favor of fixing his sights to her. Despite the inconvenient angle, he memorized every dimple and divet decorating her face. He followed the defined line of her jaw to her cheekbones, soft points lifting to her temples in joy. It permeated through her eyes, wide, green disks glistening with light. Another wave of laughter crested them in glee. It splashed onto his face, lips drawing to his ears in an honest smile.

His stomach stirred.

Careful not to knock one of the numerous take-out containers littering the coffee table, Shayne pitched over to grab his half-finished beer. It masked the uncertain bubbling in his gut. Glass cooling his lips, he chugged it; his bright blue orbs glued to her as he deposited the empty vessel on the ground.

Courtney shifted in his arms so that her torso all but blanketed his. Hand squashed between them, she dug her chin into his sternum. Awkward and uncomfortable, but it appeared the two shots coursing through her system didn't care.

"Uh, can I help you?" He chuckled as she gazed up at him, her smile broad as ever. Resting her free hand on his collar, she strummed a slow, unpredictable rhythm on his bone.

Swiping a strand of blonde behind her ear, Shayne sank into her green pools, his breath catching in his throat. Beautiful, breathtaking...

_Mine._

His organs twisted, mouth souring at the thought. His thought. This new possessiveness pumping through his blood shivered his spine. Foreign, it felt outside himself, something more in line with Alternate Shayne's instincts and not his. _I haven't even asked her to be my girlfriend, for fuck's sake._

**_What's wrong? Scared you're gonna botch that up like you did earlier? Do you know how painful that was to watch, by the way?_**

Disregarding Alternate Shayne's mocking tone, his sky-blue eyes honed in on Courtney, now scoring rings into his neck. Imprisoning her fingers with his, Shayne inhaled to pacify the flames arousing him.

"What are you thinking about?" She pouted. Shayne snorted with amusement at the drunken mess of limbs floundering on top of him as Courtney extracted her sandwiched appendage. Arms now encircling his neck, she hoisted herself up against his form until their lips brushed. His breath hitched, nails drilling into his couch.

"How I haven't even properly asked you to be my girlfriend, and you're already climbing all over me."

"Yes."

"That wasn't a —" Her lips silenced him. Shayne groaned into her mouth as her clumsy hands carded into his hair, her leg slipping in between his. _Fast, too fast.  
_

Hands seizing her hips, Shayne disrupted the kiss.

"Sorry?" Courtney said, shoulders meeting her ears as a sheepish smirk illuminated her features.

"I thought we were taking it slow?" Gentle eyes betrayed Shayne's serious timbre.

"We are. I just, you know." Courtney wiggled on his lap. Fingertips stabbed her hips, halting her movement as his face hardened. Drunk or not, she needed to constrain herself. "Look, I'm a horny gal, okay? I am a Gemini, after all." Courtney blushed, greens darting to his mouth.

"Yeah, and I'm just some stupid Virgo too scared to fuck." Shayne stifled a sad laugh.

"Hey!" She jabbed his shoulder. "You're not stupid. I'm the stupid one too eager to get laid, so if anyone's apologizing here."

"If we keep apologizing, we're going to turn into that twat, Damien," Shayne snorted softly, resting his head on her shoulder. He felt her giggle into his hair. Delicate hands drifting to his shoulders, she pinched the knots strangling his collar.

A buzzing on the table redirected Courtney's attention. Bending back, she teetered on his lap, uncoordinated limbs stretching to steal his phone from the table.

"Speak of the devil," she mused, scanning the screen. Shayne hauled her towards him. With their cumbersome position and her fumbling limbs, Courtney crash-landed on the floor, somehow managing not to drop his phone in the process. Though he missed her warmth, the lack of friction relieved his electrified nerves.

Laughter bounced his chest as she looked at him, confusion dilating her pupils. Tousled blonde tickled her cheeks, a few strands clinging to her mouth.

"Damien wants to know how you're holding up." Handing him the phone, she clambered onto the couch. "Should we tell him about us, or?" Shayne's skin itched as he watched her balance on the edge of the couch, clutching the corner of the cushion to prevent herself from toppling over. _You should be next to me._ Acid crept up his throat.

"That would make him far too happy. Also, he probably already knows," Shayne said with a chortle. Typing out a short apology, Shayne went to set his phone down when another message flashed on the screen. _'CONTRACTS!'_ Shayne grated his teeth at Damien's reminder. "Plus, we don't even know what's going on with our contracts, remember." Courtney offered him a faint smile before bowing her head.

A heavy silence inundated the apartment.

Unable to look away, Shayne studied Courtney as she poured herself another drink. He thought to stop her, but to be frank, another beer sounded enticing to him too. As if reading his mind, Courtney twisted around, her head cocked as she wagged a beer at his face. Snatching it from her, Shayne took a long pull.

A long sigh parted his lips as Courtney downed her third shot before spinning the shot glass on the table. As it twirled, it teetered on its edges, rasping the polished wood.

"It's kinda hard to keep a secret that everyone knows, isn't it?" Courtney breached the silence, a nervous laugh trailing her words. Shayne scraped his nails across his jaw. Every fiber in his being ached to show her off, to tell the world she belonged to him. A strange desire considering his usual turtle-paced approach to relations.

Months, it took months for him to contemplate just migrating from the dating stage to a full-blown relationship, let alone go public. Months he just skipped over for Courtney without a second thought, and yet here he was, craving for the world to know.

"It seems we have a lot of those these days," Shayne said. "We can trust Damien, though."

"What about Alternate Shayne? What if he provokes Damien or worse decides his payback isn't enough? I hate saying it, but we need him on our side." Courtney placed a hand on his knee.

**_Seems your girl might have a crush on me, maybe it's cause she knows I can give her what you won't? Hmm?_**

_Fuck off._

"As I said, I'll fix it." Shayne cleaved his nails into his palm.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Courtney scooted back, tucking herself against his side. Binding an arm around her, Shayne clutched her snug to his chest. He smirked as she toyed with his shirt.

"So, I'm supposed to just let Alternate Shayne bully Damien whenever he shows up?"

"There's something I neglected to mention." Courtney's hand stilled. She tried dislodging his arm, but he refused to loosen his grip. Sighing, she lowered her gaze. "We can't... Since we don't know how this whole parallel universe thing works, Damien needs us to play along with whatever scenario we Glimpse into. Doing something that our Alternates wouldn't do, or deviating too far from the scenario could throw their equilibrium out of whack. Think Back to the Future or whatever."

"I confirmed the date. This isn't—"

"Time travel? That's what I told him, but he wants to cover all the bases, just to be safe. Hell, he's not even convinced that we're traveling to the same universe each time. I mean, I'm pretty sure that we are. But apparently, it's still a possibility, which, according to Damien, makes it that more important that we act the part."

**_You hear that? That twat wants her to fuck me._**

"And what if I can't do that?" A surge of jealousy wrenched her into him, his fingers denting into her waist. Courtney chirped, her chest flush with his. A slight simper kissed the edges of her lips for a brief moment. "What if I can't..."

"You're thinking about?" Worry radiated from her eyes as she spread her hand over his heart.

"His hands on you, that closet," Shayne growled, eyes descending her lips to her neck. White fangs speared his tongue at the unmarked fleshed begging to be branded. _NOPE._

_Leave. Get the fuck out of my head before I fucking... I DON'T KNOW, just, I'll do something!_

**_Someone's got there panties in a bunch._**

_Ya think? Now if you could just —_

**_Leave? Stop? Get out? Did your little walnut of a brain forget? I'm stuck, and believe it or not, fuckface, I'm not thrilled with this either. Or are you really dumb enough to think that I'd enjoy your cowardice rubbing off on me? I mean, at least my instincts make you fun. Yours? I think I'd rather be dead than turn into you._**

"Courtney, maybe you should leave." Shayne stood up, sending Courtney sliding down his chest and to the couch. He needed distance before Alternate Shayne's instincts got the better of him. "This. This was a bad idea. Our contracts. Alternate Shayne. We're a mess. I'm a mess. Starting something now, when we might have to end it in a month. Plus, how the fuck can we date when I'm expected to fuck some bimbo who looks like you."

"And I don't want to think about what happens next time you Glimpse, and I'm left here crazed out of my brain because that twat says you have to fuck him. To, you know, play the part." Shayne emphasized the last bit with air quotes.

"Did you just call Damien a twat, again?"

"Great, now I'm starting to sound like him, fucking Great. I can't. FUCK!" He clenched his fist, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

"Shayne, I need you to calm down."

"Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down when I have this fucker in my brain, and Damien's practically asking me to cheat and—." Shayne yanked his hair.

Pressure enclosing his bicep halted his movement. Rotating to the source, Shayne discovered himself nose to nose with Courtney. Squeezing his bicep, she kissed the corner of his mouth.

"You trust me, don't you?"

"This isn't. Of course, I do." Shayne gathered a deep breath. "It's you who shouldn't trust me."

Shayne extracted himself and turned his back to her.

"They're engaged, Courtney. They're engaged and very fucking active. I can't just." Shayne breathed. "Last night, when I Glimpsed, it was their engagement night. I nearly... I did kiss her, and I almost did more. Fuck! I knew it wasn't you, but she was on me and my hands... If I hadn't returned when I did..." 

Courtney wrapped herself around him from behind, hands flattening against his pecs. She pressed up against him, a familiar position that Shayne found himself enjoying more than he cared to admit.

"You would've stopped her. I know that you would've. I know you, Shayne. You wouldn't..." she trailed off, but he heard the tears hitching in her throat, detected the emptiness of her words. Even she knew this predicament was bigger than just trust. Even she knew this wasn't a good idea.


	19. Courtney

Snowflakes melted on the windshield of Shayne's Honda Civic, little water trails that the window wipers whisked away.

A translucent sheet of white sprayed sideways across the highway, smearing the asphalt in a thin layer of slush. It splattered the passenger side window as a neighboring car rushed past them, sending Courtney flinching away from the door.

With the glass once again icing her forehead, Courtney touched her fingertips to the blobs of grey dotting the windowpane, tracing their tracks as they trickled down the pane.

Winters in Utah always were her favorite.

Pockets of color spotted the white curtain, each hue a different car. Compact vehicles struggled against the picking-up winds, while heavier models plowed through with ease. A chocolate-brown lab poked its head out from a neighboring sedan, a dusting of white quickly powdering its snout. Cute. A melancholy smile toyed with her lips as she gathered her legs against her chest.

Supporting her chin between her knees, Courtney lowered her gaze to her purse lying on the floor. A choked sob spluttered her mouth. Fingers trembling, she dipped down to grab Jango's collar poking out from her bag. The woven nylon thread abraded her fingertips, a tiny pile of Jango's fur accumulating under her thumbnail as she scraped it along the inner lining. _You'll be happier with Mom._

"Tell me this wasn't a mistake," she whimpered, drawing the collar to her lips. _Tell me we can go back and get him._ A comforting heat diffused through her black leggings, Shayne's hand gripping her knee. Peeping through her eyelashes, Courtney blushed at the tender simper radiating from her boyfriend's eyes as he focused on the road.

 _My boyfriend._ Her heart fluttered.

Courtney never expected it, not so soon, at least, and she sure as hell never anticipated them kissing, let alone her saying yes. Sure, Courtney had acknowledged her feelings shifting, but she had failed to grasp just how far they had gone until that night. Something about Shayne staring down at her and the tension in the room, it had just clicked, uncorking her bottled up emotions and releasing them onto him.

"Tell me I did the right thing," she said, still craving his affirmation.

"I'm proud of you." Shayne's words caressed her ears, snaking their way into her chest. Weaving together, they cradled her heart. Their soothing heat willed her tears to surge. Blinking them back, Courtney tilted her face to the ceiling to prevent herself from falling apart.

"And hey, it's not like this has to be forever, once we get things situated, he'll come back. Think of this as an extended vacation for Jango." His thumb stroked wheels into her knee, but Courtney capped his hand with hers to restrict him. _Don't lie to me._ Even if they learned to control these Glimpses, Smosh started filming next week. Balancing Jango's separation anxiety with an unpredictable shooting schedule would be all but impossible.

"I'm just going to miss him, you know."

"When things settle, we can make this trip again, okay?" Shayne tangled their fingers, his hand hugging hers before retreating to the steering wheel. His fingers tensed around the worn, black leather. Eyes elevating to his face, she heeded the way his jaw clenched. Bone rolling under skin raised the stubble shading his complexion. It matched the irritation freckling his sapphire pools.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"I just don't like seeing you upset, okay? Not when I can't do anything about it," he said, defeat lacing the tail end of his statement. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make this about me. I'm fine, really."

"I know."

A weak grin masked the tears threatening the back of her throat. Courtney gulped them down. _Stay strong, Courtney. For him._ Dabbing the tears licking her lashes, Courtney exhaled. Shayne had enough to fret about, what with Alternate Shayne whittling away at his identity. To be honest, it troubled her too. The prospect of Alternate Courtney surfacing becoming more-and-more certain with each passing day. _What will we do with two shattered souls?_

The roar of the road vibrated into her forehead as Courtney propped herself against the door frame. Dwelling on Alternate Courtney had developed into an unhealthy habit over the last week, Shayne too busy with The Goldbergs and college to occupy her time. How he managed to secure the three days that the trip to Utah required baffled her, but she declined to challenge it, grateful for his comfort.

Three days, two packed in a car together sandwiched one at her mother's house. Though based on the storm clouds up ahead and the trees flapping in the wind, it was about to turn into four.  
  
  


\-----

"Don't you have any twin rooms left? Or, I don't know, a cot? A room with a couch even?" Shayne asked through his teeth, frustration rasping his tone. The man working the concierge desk feigned a smile, fiddling with his nametag, which read 'Frank'.

Lingering a few steps away, Courtney battled the urge to seize his shoulder, hands linked behind her. A plastic bag dangled from them.

Despite their enhanced level of intimacy, sharing a bed still remained far outside Shayne's comfort zone; something she had discovered that night after he had tucked her in just to abandon her for the couch.

"Sir, I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a storm raging outside. And it's about to get worse, much worse," Frank said. "Now there is another motel just a few blocks from here, but seeing as this is the last room we have left. And we aren't exactly the go-to place to stay, they probably won't have much better. So unless you want to put that girl of yours in danger —"

"I don't know who you are Frank, but you have some nerve to —"

"We'll take it." Courtney jabbed Shayne in the side. Shayne gaped at her, darkness roughing the edges of his eyes for a fleeting moment. Her stomach churned. _Too fucking tired for this bullshit._  
  
  


\-----

Courtney teetered on corner of the musty duvet topping the queen-sized mattress, a remote control in her hand and a bottle of cheap wine at her feet. Eyes trained on the antiquated television sitting on a worn, wooden burrow, she flipped through channel after channel of white noise. She hoped to find something to distract from Jango.

The storm raged at full power now, chipped, salmon painted walls quivering from the harsh winds outside. It complemented the snow pelting the windows, hitting with a force that shook the dust from the frayed, blue curtains concealing them.

With the TV nothing but static, Courtney switched it off and twisted to Shayne propped up against the headboard. A bulky textbook laid across his hips.

Tousled, dirty blonde fringed his brow, ends — still a bit slick from the snow — adhering to his skin. Startling cerulean darted back and forth as he studied. Her eyes followed his sharp cheeks to where short, stubble protruded from his chiseled jawline and surrounded his lush lips. Gathering her legs underneath her, Courtney's green orbs sank to Shayne's broad shoulders.

Large, well-defined biceps hugged his sides; his thick fingers coiled around the book. His thumb strummed the loose pages, pausing once in awhile to fold a corner. Eyes hoisting to his face, Courtney moistened her lips. _Handsome, when did you become so handsome?_ Shayne gazed at her through his eyelashes with a lopsided grin.

Feathers tickling her stomach, Courtney clambered up the bed and hauled the textbook off his lap.

It landed on the floor with a loud thunk.

"Hey! I was reading that," Shayne said, chuckling.

"I think your schoolwork can wait. It's not like we're going anywhere soon with this storm anyway, plus we haven't seen each other in a week." She curled up against his side, palm flattening on his collarbone and ear to his heart. Safety encompassed Courtney, a muscular arm enveloping her as he clutched her shoulder.

Silence overwhelmed the room as she lost herself in the rise-and-fall of his steady breathing, and the world faded away.

Memories of Jango drifted across her eyelids, his brown brindle coat, perky ears, the way he greeted her every morning. Never again. Not for a while. No more late-night writing sessions with him cuddled against her leg. No more weekend hikes together that left her invigorated to return to work. No more mocking Shayne for making a fool of himself baby-talking at Jango.

A staggered breath violated the seal of her lips, prompting Courtney to cling to Shayne's security further. _What would I do without you?_ Acting on impulse, she placed an affectionate kiss on his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered, wiping a stray tear. "I don't think I could've done this alone." Fingers denting skin, Shayne hauled her into him so that half of her body now draped across his.

"We're in this together, remember?" Shayne tidied her hair behind her ear before craning his neck to kiss her forehead. She tilted her head up to capture his lips, but he ducked away.

"You felt him again, didn't you?" she asked, fingertips grazing his cheekbones.

"It's not like he's going anywhere, Courtney. We can't just drop him off like we did Jango." His words pierced her fresh wound, bursting it open wider and destroying any solace she had scavenged up. Wincing, Courtney retracted her hand to his chest. "Sorry, I didn't mean —"

"I know, I just." Courtney inhaled, tears bulging in her throat. "This past weekend, you seemed so you." A sorrowful laugh escaped her. His hold tightened, and she felt his lips on her head. "I guess I just let myself forget how fucked up things are." She hooked her fingers into his shirt.

Listening to his heart, Courtney tried to suppress her tears, but they refused, hiking higher in her esophagus in their rebellion.

"Do you think it will happen to me?"

"You mean?" She nodded into his chest. "I hope not." He kissed her head. "I hope not."  
  
  


\-----

Courtney stared at the emptiness next to her, wishing the storm roared at maximum force. _Maybe you'd still be here._ In the end, Shayne had decided to sleep in his car after her wandering hands had gotten a little caught up in the addictive taste of his lips. Though he had assured her not to worry, doubts plagued her mind. Little 'what ifs' piled on top of one another, all regarding the same subject. What if they couldn't purge him of Alternate Shayne?

Flopping her arm across the bed, she spied the corner of her journal poking out from her bag and sighed.

A week of journaling had bequeathed them with limited data, the only two Glimpses belonging to Shayne, which sucked. Though Damien had implied that just Shayne's data would suffice, her assistance would expedite the process. The faster they solved this, the faster Shayne reverted to himself, and then maybe, he would share a bed with her.

Groaning, Courtney dragged herself upright and swung her legs over the mattress. _I want to help._

Having a suspicion as to why she hadn't Glimpsed again, Courtney pilfered the mini-fridge for Shayne's neglected six-pack. With a bottle opener from one of the drawers in hand, she plopped onto the duvet and plucked a cold beer from its cardboard restraints.

A bottle cap landed at her hip, the beverage opening with a crisp pop. She downed the amber liquid, tongue shriveling at the taste. _I should've bought more wine,_ she thought, eyeing the emptied bottle on the table.  
  
  
  


\-----

**_You, you really shouldn't be doing that._ **

A frail, timid voice interrupted Courtney as she went to open her fourth beer. Fastening her eyes shut, she weighed her lungs with air. Despite identifying the perpetrator, the fragility of Alternate Courtney's cadence still startled her. She sounded meek, light like cotton candy. She hated to say it but childlike even.

_I was wondering when you'd show up._

**_Y-You're scary, okay?_ **

_Me scary? What about your asshole of a fiance?_

**_D-Don't call him that! He j-just likes to have fun, make p-people squirm, okay._ **

_Then what should I call him? A douchebag? A fuckboy? Because he's been putting us through the wringer._

Courtney rolled her eyes and flopped onto her back, limbs sprawling across the bedding. The bottle slipped from her hand and tumbled across the bed, stopping just before it tumbled off. Just her luck to get a wimp as her alternate. Though the voice's frailty and lack of confidence challenged her assumption, positing the question as to whether or not this was Alternate Courtney or just some panicked hallucination that her brain whipped up.

**_He's all talk, okay? A big bark, and no bite... Well no, he does bite, but only me._ **

Courtney swore she heard Alternate Courtney giggle.

 _You're a lot more_ , she pressed a finger to her lips, scouring her brain for something less insulting than what first came to mind. _More timid than I expected. The way Shayne, my Shayne, described you, I thought you'd be brazen, feisty, domineering even._

**_F-f-for him. That's for him. He brings it out in me. I don't usually. I'm not._ **

_Not?_ Knowing that Alternate Courtney's confidence relied on Alternate Shayne irked her. Being so dependent on another person, on a man, how could Alternate Courtney stand herself? Her teeth speared her bottom lip.

Hearing Alternate's Courtney's nervous mumbling, Courtney pocketed her concern for later. Right now, she just wanted answers.

**_Uh, I g-gotta go._ **

_Gotta go? Aren't you stuck with me?_

**_W-we a-aren't tangled yet. Not like them. Not y-yet._ **

_Tangled?_

**_D-don't worry about it, just don't come back. O-r else._ **

She failed to sound intimidating.

**_A-an-and go get your boy before he freezes, you d-d-dummy._ **

Scrambling to her feet, Courtney's legs bowed at the initial landing. Tipping forward, she braced herself on the bed, stabilizing her tipsy form. The room fluctuated, pastel walls blurring as she bolted to the door.

Fingers slipped from the chilled metal doorknob, clumsy movements hindering her ability to twist the knob.

A gust of frosted wind blasted her upon the door creaking open, her forearm jerking up to shield her face. She dashed out the door only to crash into a frozen mass. Stumbling back, Courtney withdrew her arm to protect her eyes with her hand. Relief washed over her upon seeing that the solid block belonged to Shayne.

Encased in a superficial layer of snow, Shayne held his dark-green jacket close to his body as he pretended not to shiver.

"I may be an idiot." He rubbed the back of his neck, an apologetic smile on his face. She offered him a weak one in return and ushered him inside. 


	20. Courtney

Red and blue flickered through dusty curtains, their muted light piercing the darkness enshrouding the grimy motel room. It illuminated the rounded edges of a small table sitting adjacent to the window, spilling onto the grungy, old carpet as if reaching for the dim glow radiating from the bed.

Neon green spelled out '3:00 AM' on the digital clock lounging on the dusty nightstand. Joining the luminosity of Courtney's phone, it cast a turquoise glaze over her features; little shimmers danced on teardrops brimming in her eyes. Their billows swelled with every photo of Jango Courtney flipped through until streams poured down her cheeks to salt her tongue. Cementing her eyes, the clog asphyxiating her slinked into her stomach, allowing for a spluttered gasp to break her lips.

Greens hurried to Shayne's form sprawled across the foot of the bed, the patterned rise-and-fall of his ribs indicating his peaceful slumber. Wiping the waterfalls flooding her cheeks with her sleeve, Courtney gathered her legs to her chest. _I wish you would hold me._

The craving for his embrace gnawed at her resolve, pleading with her diminished inhibitions to curl up around him, but she resisted, her phone digging into her shin. She clutched her knees tighter,

Despite understanding why he needed space, it still mangled her gut, hollowing her core until the room expanded, and she shrank. _You did worse, remember? At least, he has the nerve to talk to you._ It failed to subdue the ache inverting her stomach, the yearning for the comfort of his arms, for Shayne to trust himself again, for Alternate Shayne's instincts to either disappear or no longer terrify him, whichever of the two happened first. To be honest, him taking charge turned her on a bit more than she cared to admit.

Eyeing the mini-fridge, Courtney sighed. _I know what you said, but I can't just sit here and do nothing._ Careful not to disturb Shayne, she scooted off the bed. Torso swaying back and forth, the nightstand proved a decent handhold for balancing. Arms stretched above her head, the three beers pulsing through her system barely tickled her brain, their waning effect nothing but an afterthought.

Flashing reds and blues washed over her as she tip-toed to the mini-fridge, delicate digits bending around the half-emptied six-pack's cardboard handle. Snatching the bottle opener from the table, she checked Shayne's breathing once more before sneaking into the bathroom. Balancing the beers on the sink, she perched on the toilet seat lid. _I hope this will be enough._

The first bottle opened with a crisp pop, its cool amber draining down her gullet in a single pull. Pausing, she strained her ears for the whispers of static. Nothing. Creases marred her temples, liquor spluttering from her lips as the second beer caught on her windpipe. Smothering her coughing fit with her forearm, Courtney forced the liquid down.

Her hacking echoing off the walls fading, a grin curved her features as static ticked her ears. _There you are._

Eyes clamped shut; she willed the static to devour her, but it leveled out at an unswerving hum that teased her with a promise she recognized as false. _Fine then._ Courtney downed the last bottle.

With the empties kicked aside, she staggered back into the main room. Feet tripping themselves, Courtney overlooked Shayne's sleeping form. Her movement less than quiet, though she barely heard herself over the thundering static inundating the room.

Crashing onto the duvet, she submerged into the static.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

White noise scraped the inside of her skull, carving a trench destined for her essence. Her consciousness slotted into it with ease, shimmying against slippery membranes until it bottomed out and dropped its anchors.

Hooks penetrating bone, it coated itself in a new skin.

Fading static trickled from her eardrums as Courtney slammed into darkness. The throbbing beat of her heart displacing it, chaos whipping around her brain dissolved into a gentle breeze. Lungs saturated with air, she extended her concentration to her senses, determined to expedite the stabilization process.

What appeared to be a velvet-covered cushion kissed her palms. Sniffing, the scent of clay and roses wafted into her nose. _Definitely, not my apartment._ Tuning into her ears, she heard nothing but room tone. With her senses deemed stable enough to endure the onslaught of sensory input, Courtney flayed her eyes open.

Rubbing away the fog clouding her vision, pride warmed her heart. _It's getting easier,_ she mused before cracking her neck and beginning her investigation.

The sight that greeted Courtney astounded her. A vibrant teal painted the walls; an intricate pattern etched in red paint bordered the trim. What Courtney believed to be a 50" TV hung over a modern, black and white dresser that housed a Keurig machine, an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne, and a bouquet of roses. Gliding her hands over the cushion cradling her, the silkiness that caressed her fingertips prompted her to address her seating arrangement.

A red, suede couch that somehow suited the vibrancy of the walls supported her weight, its peachfuzz mending her frayed nerves as her fingerpads coasted across it.

Twisting at the waist, Courtney cataloged the hallway to her right before noting the kitchen to her left. Cabinets cast shadows on black, granite counters that squared off the open style kitchen. A decent side refrigerator resided against a wall, along with a stove and a sink.

Nothing too special, but considering the hotel placard nailed to the door behind her, it amazed her. A suit befitted of a king. _How do they afford this?_

Attention drifting back to her hand gliding across the suede sectional, her heart trembled. Light gleamed from her left ring finger. Hauling it to her face, she gawked over the decent-sized diamond adorning her hand. Courtney thumbed the glimmering stone, jagged edges cutting into the calloused pad of her thumb. _Maybe one day._

**_I t-t-thought I t-t-told you to stay away._ **

Courtney groaned at Alternate Courtney's frail voice chiming in.

_Yeah, well, I'm not good at listening, okay? And I need answers._

**_I d-don't know anything, so j-just go._ **

_Really? Because you said something about my Shayne and your Shayne being tangled, which sounds to me like you know a thing or two._

**_Not now, y-you're going to ruin it._**

_Like he hasn't ruined enough for me already?_

**_T-that's not my p-problem. You j-just play along, like Shayne says you're supposed to do._ **

_Of course, he overheard me saying that._

The doorknob jimmying yanked Courtney's focus to the door. Breath adhered to her throat as it creaked open, and Alternate Shayne sauntered in. Booting the door closed behind him, he tossed the keys onto a table next to the entrance before removing a pink, knit scarf double wrapped around his neck.

Instead of marching towards her like she anticipated, he propped himself against the door. Half-lidded eyes dragged over her though she managed to catch a flash of something far more romantic than she expected out of him.

Using his gaping to her advantage, Courtney studied him. Though he wore Shayne's face, hair, and muscles, his attire ventured far outside of her Shayne's wardrobe.

A black, short-cut leather jacket outlined his biceps; unzipped, the collar fastened against his shoulders. She overlooked the box-shaped mass bulging in his pocket, the skintight, white cotton clinging to his washboard abs demanding her attention. The hem poked out from the bottom of the jacket, capping ripped and acid-washed, black jeans. Un-cuffed ankles bunched up over what she assumed were black boots.

Teeth speared Courtney's lower lip.

**_H-hot, r-right? A-a-nd I-I-I'm his. I'm his._**

Alternate Courtney's giggle pounded in her head, irritating Courtney to no end. Though she ached to vocalize her disgust, Alternate Shayne advancing towards her prevented her.

"Lovely, just lovely," he said, sweeping a strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb stroking her cheek, he stuffed his other hand into his pocket. Large fingers stretched the already strained material as his meaty digits coiled around the box. The urge to jab his stomach and offer him a piece of her mind pricked her mouth. She clenched her jaw, teeth jailing her tongue. "Close your eyes," Alternate Shayne ordered, kneeling in front of her.

Furrowing her brow, Courtney fixed her emerald orbs to his icy-blues, terrified of being blind around Alternate Shayne. A canine snagged his lower lip as he smirked.

**What are you doing? Are you mad? Just fucking close your eyes already. You're in my body remember?**

The abrupt change of confidence in Alternate Courtney's tone surprised her, shock sealing her eyes.

"Good girl."

Ice licked the nape of her neck. Its chill soon melted by a heat scorching the shell of her ear. His mouth. Millimeters away.

She swallowed.

Something tickled her collarbone. Teeth clamping her lips suppressed a frightened gasp. Her concentration singled out the strange sensation. _Cloth, maybe?_ Heart pounding, Courtney forced a deep breath in. Faint whimpers escaped the seal of her lips. His touch burned, knuckles scratching the delicate skin of her collarbone.

His presence vanished, leaving something cinched around her neck. Whatever it was, it laid flat against her neck, not tight enough to choke her though it seemed that way for a moment.

**_He said. I thought. I told him that he didn't have to, that I... He didn't want this. That this was where he crossed the line. For me... He did this for me._ **

_Are you crying?_

**_They're happy tears, okay? Just shut up._ **

Before she managed to comment on Alternate Courtney's unsettling transformation, thick hands seized Courtney's shoulders and hoisted her upright.

"I've got you," Alternate Shayne said. His hand capturing hers, the other flattened against the small of her back. With soft pressure searing her skin, he encouraged her forward.

Dread slithered up her throat to taint her tongue, the lack of control nauseating Courtney. Her heart galloped, sweat beading on her palms. Fear screamed at her to escape, to elbow him and dash out the door, but she persevered, hoping to ascertain some new knowledge through acting the part. She just wished his touch afforded her the same comfort as Shayne's, but something about identifying him as an Alternate spoiled that for her.

After he escorted her around a corner, all movement ceased.

Heat hugged her biceps before his presence disappeared. Focusing on sound, Courtney followed his footsteps padding along a hard surface. The click of light switch reverberated through the room, its echoes masking his tracks.

Solid heat pressing against her back startled her. Courtney chirped. Arms wrapping around her waist mitigated her shock. _Just him, it's just him._

"You can look now."

The harsh bathroom light scalded Courtney's emerald orbs, driving her to squint just to observe her blurry reflection. Once the brightness no longer obstructed her vision, she zoomed in on her neck.

She gagged, acid coating her mouth.

A thin band of black divided her neck, a small, metal ring protruding from the midline that aligned with her chin.

_A COLLAR? HE PUT ME IN A FUCKING COLLAR!_

**_Isn't it amazing?_ **

_NOPE. It's disgusting. That's what it is. But if you want it so bad, why don't you take control?_

**_Well, it's a little too late for that, dipshit. If you just heeded my warning._ **

_You really are a different person around him, aren't you? God, this is so creepy._

"I know what I told you," Alternate Shayne said, his subdued, even nervous tone diverting Courtney's awareness. Eyes scanning Alternate Shayne through the mirror, she nipped her lip to restrain herself from laughing. Red tinted his cheeks; his head bowed, eyes, once secured to hers, plummeting to the floor.

"And I know you said the ring was enough for you, that you didn't need it, but." A sickeningly sweet smile crested his eyes. The type better suited to a sappy, hopeless romantic, and not the sharp-edged baddy she took him for. "If this is what you want, who am I to deny you?"

"You did this for me?" Courtney blinked at him, trying her best to play along. Her lips quivered as she held back her amusement. The tender adoration radiating from his eyes. His uncharacteristic meekness. How pacified he became around Alternate Courtney. Her face twitched.

"I'm sorry. I can't." She wheezed into laughter, hand bolting to cover her mouth.

"REALLY! What the fuck is with the two of you just popping up at all the worst times?" Alternate Shayne asked, stumbling back.

Courtney's amusement died out into a single hiccup as he stomped back and forth behind her. The softness polishing his features reverted into harsh points as Alternate Shayne yanked at his hair.

"First, he ruins what was supposed to be my proposal night, then my engagement night, and now? Now I go and do this, and you show up. For fucksake, what did I do to deserve this?" he shouted, prompting Courtney to spin on her heel.

"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow at Alternate Shaye. Jabbing a finger into his chest, Courtney backed him against the wall. "You're the victim in all of this? Please. You know exactly what you did, and don't get me started on how my boyfriend is too scared to sleep with me because of you." Courtney glowered at him, driving her finger into his pec. His dark blues narrowed, lips curving into a smirk.

"Hey now, that's all him," Alternate Shayne said, palms lifting in mock surrender. "I told him to grow a pair and get it in. It's not my fault you're dating a coward."

With frightening ease, he snatched her finger, leveraging it to swap their positions without hurting her. Planting a hand next to her head, he looped a finger through the collar's ring. He wrenched her face until their lips all but grazed, his eyes never leaving hers. "Now if you don't mind getting out of my Fiancé."

"Oh, I'd love to, but I'm afraid you're stuck with me until further notice. Now, if you don't mind." She waved him off. He sighed but retreated, ramming his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans.

"You have no clue how you got here, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I just—"

Alternate Shayne clucked his tongue. "Don't know how to get back; got it. The two of you really are something."

"Well, since you seem to have all the answers, why don't you tell me?" Courtney asked, arms crossing her chest. Silence weighed the air, the only sound emanating from her fingers tapping against her forearm.

The sound of Alternate Shayne kissing his teeth at her shattered the room. She glared at him, and he winked, a spark of mischief glinting in his eyes.

"HEY! Don't just leave," Courtney shouted as Alternate Shayne stormed out of the room. Chasing him into the main area, she tensed her fists upon finding him in the kitchen.

A defiant smirk toyed with his features as he extracted a box of cereal from a top cabinet. Dumbfounded, she watched him prepare a bowl of Lucky Charms without bothering to acknowledge her presence. _Milk last, at least you're still somewhat human._

"Really?"

"What? A guy's gotta eat, and since you're clearly not on the menu tonight." He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth and shrugged.

"Gross." Courtney suppressed the urge to vomit and collapsed onto the couch. "So, you going to spill or not?"

"Fine, fine, but only because I'm sick of you two barging in on me and my gal, got it? Not because I actually like you." His tone betrayed his words for the latter part.

Courtney flinched as he rocketed over the couch and plopped down next to her. Kicking his legs up on the coffee table, he draped his arms across the top of the sectional, his fingertips dusting the collar.

"But first, tell me, what it is like being owned?" He smirked, a deviant spark eclipsing his eyes.

As if on cue, static scored her inner ear.

_No. No. No. Not now. God damn it._

The edges of her vision distorted, and darkness enveloped her.

.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.

Static slicked the back of Courtney's throat as distortion whipped around in a tornado, jostling her soul as it crash-landed into its proper vessel.

Courtney gasped. Eyes shooting open, her body jolted upright only to discover a weight securing her. Chest heaving with each rapid breath, she lowered her gaze to find Shayne's arm anchoring her collarbone. Wiggling to escape, she halted. His heat encompassed her form; his body spooned around her. Though she relished it, the anger pulsating through her veins superseded it.

"GOD DAMM IT," she shouted, claws burrowing into his flesh desperate to escape.

"It's me, Courtney, just me. You were shivering, so I..." Shayne said, flattening his hand to her heart and loosening his grip. "Calm down, you're back. You're back." Courtney huffed, peeling herself from his grasp and launching to her feet.

She started pacing.

"I know, I'm back, genius. I don't want to be back. I was this close to—"

"To him telling you about how this all works?" Shayne swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"You heard?"

"You know he wasn't actually going to tell you, right? He was just toying with you," he said with a weak simper.

"Yeah, well." Stomping, Courtney twisted to face Shayne who rose to his feet, smoothing down his pants before he approached her. His hand clutched her shoulder, but she shook it off. Pivoting away, she bee-lined it to her purse resting on a nearby chair. She plucked a make-up compact from it and flicked it open, dusting off the mirror.

"He fucking put a collar on me, like he owned me."— Checking her reflection, Courtney breathed out in relief upon inspecting her bare neck.— "Her. Like he owned her. And you want to know the crazy part? SHE WANTED IT. He did it for her. Who would have thought HE'S THE NORMAL ONE! She? She's this kinky little two-faced damsel in distress type! Imagine that?" She slammed the compact shut and chucked it into her purse.

"Wait, you spoke to Alternate Courtney? When did this happen?"

"When you decided sleeping in the car was more appealing than cuddling." She whirled back to Shayne, prodding his pec before recommencing her pacing. "Do you know she stutters? AND WANTS TO WEAR A COLLAR! Let that sink in."

"I told you, I... She stutters?" Shayne stifled a laugh.

"Really? That's what you focus on? Her stuttering?"

"What do you want me to say? That I find you wearing a collar hot?" Courtney froze dead in her tracks, head jerking around to face him. Daggers fired from her eyes. Shayne floundered backwards, knees collapsing as he toppled into the bed.

"I'm going to pretend that was Alternate Shayne talking; because, if anyone's wearing a collar here, it's you." Courtney resumed pacing, flapping the anxiety from her hands. "Sorry, it's just a lot to take in, okay? And I just —"

"Courtney, look at me," Shayne said, broad fingers encasing her lithe digits. Towing her between his legs, he set her palms on his shoulders before his fingertips sank into her waist. He kneaded her sides for a few seconds then lifted his grip to cup her face and steer her focus to him.

The corners of his mouth twitched.

"Do you want me to wear a collar?" he asked, his somber tone breaking into bellyaching laughter. His head flinging back, he clutched the bed to support his weight. With a lighthearted smack to the chest, Courtney couldn't help but erupt into laughter with him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." She dabbed the tears of joy away.

"I'm sorry, it's just the person you described is nothing like the one I met."

"Yeah, well, I saw both firsthand. That girl is stupid dependent on him to a point where it's disturbing." Shayne grasped her waist once more, his thumbs tracing reassuring rings into her muscle. She chewed on her lip, reciprocating the action to his shoulders. Fastening her eyes to his, she breathed. "If I ever get that way, please put me out of my misery?"

"Trust me, you'll never be that." Shayne's eyes darkened for a split second before he pitched in and claimed her lips with his. Bracing herself on his shoulders, she climbed onto his lap so that her legs straddled him.

"Courtney," he squeaked, pulling away.

"Shut up and kiss me."


	21. Shayne

"Wait, wait, wait, why are we doing this over the phone again?" Damien asked, his voice crackling through Shayne's Bluetooth headphones. Shayne almost missed it, the roar of the subway scraping against metal tracks deafening the world.

Blue eyes flitted over the cart as Shayne propped himself against the front-end of the train wagon. Laminated advertisements paneled the upper walls. An eye-mangling pattern upholstered cheap, plastic seats that bordered the long, metal tube's perimeter. People from all walks of life occupied them, either lost in their conversations or buried in their phones. Other, less fortunate passengers struggled to remain upright, clinging to floor-to-ceiling poles that dotted the midline.

Someone pounded on the wall dividing the carts, harsh slams that vibrated up Shayne's back and into his teeth.

Cracking his neck, Shayne drowned the irritation with air. Thin patience underlined the theme of his past week, the puniest things biting at his nerves. The lingering strain of subduing Alternate Shayne's unsettling urges only amplified this newfound tendency. Teeth grating, Shayne shuffled to face the disturbance.

His palm slapped his face, thumb and pointer hooking into skin and dragging.

A smirking Damien saluted him through the windowpane, blotches of grime obscuring his wide, brown eyes and raised brows. Fists clenched, Shayne restrained himself from hammering the glass.

"Courtney figuring out how to force a Glimpse is a pretty big development, don't you think? Like something we should maybe be talking about face to face, without a pane of glass separating us?" Damien cocked his head, knuckles rapping on the glass to drive his point home.

"I don't feel like getting arrested when Alternate Shayne decides to punch you, okay?" Shayne cupped his mouth, eyes darting around for eavesdroppers. Though between the chaos of voices and the idiot blasting music from his boom box, he doubted anyone could overhear his brash whispering.

"Right, so then why am I here again?"

"I need help picking out a gift, okay? I kinda fucked up last week. Plus, you want to be updated on the Glimpse situation, right?" Shayne pressed his lips into a straight line. Truth be told, he had considered hosting this call in his apartment. In the end, he had concluded Damien would just invite himself over, and having Alternate Shayne and Damien in such close proximity screamed of disaster.

Without warning, the train lurched to a standstill, the abrupt change in momentum propelling Shayne into rust coated metal. His face smashed against the window, cheek squishing into a round disk that crushed his eye. Extracting himself, Shayne rubbed the back of his neck, mouth twitching as Damien gripped his stomach and laughed.

**_That twat better watch who he's laughing at._ **

"Little Tokyo." A robotic voice announcing their station prevented him from responding to Alternate Shayne.

Shayne to scurried towards the hoard of people gathered at the exit.

Sliding doors screeched open, and a handful of riders piled out, scattering the streetside platform. Rubber soles smacked against grey cement, Shayne jumping from the subway carriage to stand a few feet away from the yellow line.

"Over here," Damien said.

Glancing to his right, Shayne spied his best friend waving at him. His stomach clenched.

Wind lashed Shayne's back as the train sped off in a blur of motion, streaks of grey licking his peripheral vision. Shayne swallowed. Nerves on fire. The gap separating them elongated. Everything stretched, an unmoving Damien pulling away from him until he became just a speck, the centerpiece in a tunnel of lines. A hallucination. A reminder of his slipping grasp on reality.

Shayne cleaved his nails into his palm, and the world reverted to its normal proportions.

**_Scared you're going to lose him?_ **

"I'm not scared," Shayne lied, earning him a hearty chuckle from Alternate Shayne.

"What was that?" Damien asked, and the color emptied from Shayne's complexion. _Shit, did I say that out loud?_

"Nothing, let's just go."

**_Careful, wouldn't want to look too crazy now?_ **

Shayne tailed Damien as they headed towards the street. Maintaining a safe distance behind, he masked his paranoia by pretending to be a spy collecting information on his target. A quirky, internal game that preserved his sanity and made his current predicament tolerable.

**_Nevermind, you've already lost it._ **

_Quit it._

"So, not even a week together, and you've already fucked up, huh?" Damien quirked an eyebrow over his shoulder at him as they stopped at the intersection. With the walk signal red, swarms of traffic impeded their path.

Even standing a few paces behind, Shayne noted signs written in Kanji down the street. A lofty, crimson tower overlooked flat-roofed businesses, its design reminiscent of the shrines he had seen a few months back whilst visiting Japan with Damien.

"Guess I'm not boyfriend material after all." Shayne shrugged, not wanting to delve into it. The motel still plagued him, Courtney's dejection haunting his memories. It seared the back of his eyelids. The way she had slid from his lap -- ashamed -- her arm rushing to cover her bra-clad chest as she scurried to the bathroom.

No matter how much she had reassured him, her visible pain had painted a different picture. It gnawed at his guilt. Making her feel unwanted was the last thing he desired, yet his hang-ups had forced his hand.

"Well, if you want to talk about it, I've got ears." The walk signal flashed green, and Damien hurried across the street. Shayne waited, deciding to cross once Damien reached the other side.

The flashing red hand and countdown flipping to five stranded him.

"Okay Shayne, I get that Alternate Shayne wants to murder me, but this is just ridiculous." Damien waved at Shayne, his movement sharp and angry. Shayne sighed.

**_Hey now, I'm not a murderer. Unlike you, the friendship killing coward. You know, Dames still won't talk to me after what you did._ **

_Ever think you're just a crappy friend?_

"Don't blame me if he decides to deck you. Courtney's the only one he seems to listen to." Hanging up, Shayne bounced on his toes. He felt antsier as of late, a development he blamed on the fragments of Alternate Shayne housed inside his skull. 'Being tangled' Courtney termed it, but what did she know? Alternate Courtney wasn't living in her head.

"They get along?" Damien asked, pivoting towards Little Tokyo as Shayne finished fording the street. The duo walked parallel to each other, shoulders inches apart.

**_Well, she is interesting, unlike you._ **

"God knows why. The fuckface is unbearable," Shayne said, now standing under the red tower. It designated the main entrance to Little Tokyo's shopping district. Japanese lanterns hung between small shops and restaurants that lined a street-wide walkway.

"Place is awesome, right?" Damien beamed, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "I mean, it's not Tokyo levels of awesome but still." He gestured to the scenery with his head. Shayne shrugged, snatching his buzzing phone from his pocket. Courtney reminding him of their upcoming dinner date.

**_You going to take her to bed tonight, huh? I don't mind taking control if you're too chicken shit. Hell, I'll take you right now, do some damage like you did to Dames and me._ **

Shayne grated his teeth, jostling Damien's arm off. "Sane or not, his hunger for revenge is terrifying," he warned before walking off.

Mouthwatering scents wafted through the air as Shayne passed several traditional Japanese restaurants. Though his stomach growled and his nose begged to enter, Courtney's gift came first. Halting at a small, potted tree, Shayne scoured the few shops scattering food establishments. A window packed with stuffed animals beckoned to him.

"Well, if he's the sane one, what does that make Alternate Courtney?" He heard Damien ask from behind him as he marched into the store.

"According to Courtney, she's a two-faced kinkster, whatever that means." Pausing just inside the shop, his eyes roamed the vendor's diverse selection of merchandise. Novelty gifts lined the walls, candy making sets, useless gadgets and gizmos, and more. Various items hung from columns of shelving units. Shayne bee-lined it to a clump of velvety plushes in the back.

Plucking a dog with a heart-shaped nose from the pile, Shayne heeded the collar sewn to its neck. "Something about a collar and wanting to be owned, I don't know. I'm a little scattered here," Shayne said as he returned the stuffed animal to its brethren.

"So we're talking 50 shades of grey, or?" Damien grinned, lifting a cat plush over the shelving unit. Shayne bobbed his head no, gesturing for Damien to follow him out of the store. Looking around, a nearly identical shop with a more extensive selection of plushes captured his eye.

**_Please, we're not into that type of abuse. Well, maybe her, but that's the one fantasy of hers I refuse to indulge._ **

"Does that matter?" Shayne asked, storming towards the store. "All I know is that Alternate Shayne's annoyed about turning into me. Alternate Courtney mentioned something about our souls being tangled, which, by the way, is somehow not the fucking case for Courtney and her for whatever reason. And, oh yeah, when Courtney cut herself in their world, it affected her body here."

"Hold up." Damien's arm slammed into Shayne's chest, immobilizing him in his tracks. Shayne groaned, eyes fixed on the store. An adorable fox plush called to him. Hands clenched into tight balls, he ironed his knuckles against his thighs. "Courtney cut herself?"

"She didn't tell you?" Shayne shouldered past Damien and jogged to the fox. He ached to forget about that, about how he let her down. I should have checked on you sooner.

"Well, I mean, I didn't exactly know to ask," Damien said as he stepped up behind him. A crown of blue and pink flowers topped the red and white fox's head. Triangle ears protruded up from its bean-shaped body, with white ovals capping beady back eyes.

_Perfect._

**_A stuffed animal? Do you really think that's going to make you not fucking her okay? Hell, I can have my girl whenever I want, and even I'm frustrated._ **

"She wanted to check she wasn't dreaming," Shayne said, carrying the fox to the register. With the plush secured in a plastic bag, the duo left. Meandering further down the pathway, they delayed at an oversized Christmas tree marking a three-way intersection. _Maybe I'll take her here to celebrate._ "So tell me, why would that happen?"

"Have you thought about asking your Alternate?" Damien signaled for them to take a right.

"Not going to happen, so give me your best guess." Shayne paused behind Damien as they approached a substantial, white building. Stores lined a hollowed-out tunnel running through the massive structure. Red letters mounted above a door-less entrance read 'Little Tokyo Mall'. A photobooth and some crane machines dotted the midline of the path. To Shayne's left, bright colors, cutesy mascots, and bubblegum fashion accentuated a small clothing boutique.

"Some sort of malfunction where your souls aren't fully leaving your body or something?" Damien suggested, marching down the walkway. Shayne jogged to keep up.

**_I'll give that twat credit, he's on to something. Maybe, you'll figure this shit out yet._ **

_And maybe if you just told me, then I wouldn't be barging in on you. Ever thought of that?_

**_Now, where's the fun in that? Of course, if you let me at that girl of yours --_ **

_Not gonna happen, you and your kinkster girlfriend already scarred her enough._

"Look, I'll have to do more research," Damien said.

_So, what was Dames right about again?_

**_The failed souls detachment. The cuts. By the way, if your bitch does that shit again, I swear you will never hear the end of it._ **

_Soul detachment?_

**_Long story short, you know how our minds are quote on quote tangled? Well, their bodies are linked._ **

"If you direct me to what to read, I can help, you know. Since Alternate Shayne seems to think you're on to something," Shayne suggested.

"We can't exactly trust Alternate Shayne to be telling the truth, Bud." Damien ducked into the last shop on the right, an anime-themed store packed with books, DVDs, action figures, and more. "So maybe, you could start being more like your girlfriend. You know, do something other than just sulk in a corner?"

"The last time I tried being proactive, it earned me this asshat plotting his revenge on me." Shayne eyed a sizable collection of anime girl figurines arranged behind a glass cabinet while Damien perused an extensive selection of manga.

"Seriously dude, grow a pair, or I'm out," Damien said, plucking a plastic-wrapped manga from the overstuffed shelving unit. "I mean buddy, come on. Your girlfriend has figured out more about this on her own, and she's only Glimpsed what, three times compared to your six?" His words stung, needles piercing his nerves. _It's not like I want to be useless._

"I'm sorry, I can't just blackout drink my way into a revelation." Shayne kicked at the floor, fingers tightening around the plastic bagged fox in his hand. "You know she didn't even bother telling me her plan? I had to wake up to her crashing onto the bed, unconscious with an empty six-pack scattering the bathroom."

"You need to calm down, bud," Damien said through his teeth, eyes flying around the store. Shayne tracked his gaze, irritation boiling his blood upon noticing the meddlesome eyes glaring their way. Swallowing, he puffed out his chest, Alternate Shayne's instincts getting the better of him.

Damien bolted.

Feet slapping cement echoed through the tunnel as Shayne charged after him. Anger tainted his movement; his eyes sharpened, and jaw tensed. Exiting the tunnel, the sunlight scalding his skin magnified it.

"Fuck calming down. Had Alternate Shayne not gone on a tirade in my head, I would've rushed her to the fucking hospital. So you're right, I'm a shit, cowardice boyfriend who can't even protect the girl he likes, happy?" Hand seizing Damien's shoulder, Shayne wrenched his best friend around. His fist stopped centimeters from Damien's face.

Damien grasped Shayne's shoulders.

"I understand that Alternate Shayne is rubbing off on you, but I'm just trying to help here." The stress in Damien's voice should have worried him, but it grated his ears instead.

**_Says the twat who wants me to fuck your girl._ **

"And by help, you mean telling me to cheat?" Shayne spat back, shoving Damien off.

He started towards the metro station.

"Okay, when I said play the part, I meant don't give yourself away to the other Smosh peeps or make your Alternates' lives harder. Not that." Damien lifted his palms over his head as he trotted up next to Shayne.

"Well, at least that's one less thing to worry about, but I still don't like the idea of her drinking for your research."

"I don't like it either, but it's information we can use. Think you'd be up to trying to drink yourself into a Glimpse one of these days?" Damien asked.

An oversized, metal Rubix cube balanced on its corner grabbed Shayne's eye, prompting him to cross the street. The art installation marked the entrance to The Japanese American National Museum, though Shayne paid that no mind. His focus remained on the mangled faces printed on the cubes scrambled sides. Fixed and unchanging, forever jumbled. _Will we ever unjumble me?_

"I'm not stable enough, not mentally, plus we have filming coming up." Shayne tried to play off the unease coursing through his system. Though getting control of his Glimpsing meant finding an end to his torment, the idea of forcing one churned his stomach.

"Afterwards, then," Damien said.

"I'll think about it," Shayne said, checking his phone for the time.


	22. Shayne

"I'm with Damien on this," Courtney said. Wood planks creaked as she rushed down the ramp to an unobstructed block of railing that ran along the sides of Santa Monica Pier. Hands gripping the rusted metal, Courtney rose to her tip-toes, the teal bar denting her hips as she folded over it.

Wonderment brightened her complexion, wild strands of blonde swirling in the ocean breeze. They pranced across her face, a tooth-bearing smile greeting her wide green eyes. Neon lights danced on them, pinks, blues, and yellows casting a rainbow glow around her profile's silhouette. The sun's red hue glazed her skin. A picture-perfect scene fit for an art gallery.

Snatching his phone from his jacket, Shayne snapped several candid photos, physical proof of a memory he feared forgetting.

Waves crashing on sand echoed through the air, their breaking crests barely audible over the street performers dotting the pier. Shayne eyed a few interspersed artist booths up ahead, noting a nearby stand adorned with necklaces — miniature jars strung from black-cord. An elderly gentleman squatted on a stool beside it, a bag of rice and a container of paintbrushes at his feet. _Why does this seem familiar?_

"Of course, you are," Shayne said, covering Courtney's hand with his. People blemished the sunset-kissed beach below them. "C'mon, I know a better place."

Entwining their fingers, he towed her away.

Street performers and vendors blurred in his peripheral vision, colors blending as they raced down the pier. An arcade attached to Pacific Park — an amusement park — stood out amongst the shops and restaurants.

A slight chill crisped the air upon arriving at the end of the pier, a pleasant change of pace from the thick Los Angeles heat he was accustomed to.

"Over here." Shayne squeezed her hand, escorting her down some stairs to a less congested platform. A handful of fishermen secured the corners, fishing poles bolted to the railing while they slouched in their foldaway chairs. Slipping his grasp, Courtney shuffled to the banister lining the terrace's perimeter.

A gravitational pull lured him towards her until his front lay flush with her back. Capping her hands with his, Shayne fastened his head to her shoulder.

"Beautiful, like you," he said, referencing the sunset decorating the sky.

Silence descended over them, their attention captivated by the stripes of crimson layering the sky. The reddened ocean glimmered, billowing waves projecting a misshapen reflection of the disappearing sun. _Disappearing like me._ Shayne pressed himself closer to Courtney, her heat against his chest grounding him. A soft gasp tumbled from her lips, though he detected her smile from the corner of his eye.

With the only hint of the sunken sun a scarlet tint on the horizon, Courtney twisted to encircle her arms around his neck.

"So, is this all you had planned?" Courtney asked, her lips teasing his.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Shayne murmured against her mouth. "There's that Mexican place that has our names. And then, if I'm lucky, maybe I could be that cheesy boyfriend who wins you a prize, give that fox of yours a friend."  
  
  
  
  
  


The moon hung at full glory now, its half-sliver pouring light over the rocky ocean current. Today's pop hits drowned out the mechanical shriek of metal scraping metal.

Laughter bounced Shayne's chest as they scurried away from the rollercoaster, eyes crinkling at Courtney's windswept hair. It clung to her rose-painted face. She tidied it behind her ear.

"So, what were you saying about winning me a prize?" Courtney hooked her thumbs into the shoulder straps of her recently purchased miniature backpack. Doubling over, she walked backwards, her emerald orbs secured to his.

"Careful," Shayne said. Seizing her hand, he jerked her into his chest before she backed into a wooden support rail. She giggled before tearing away, keeping their hands still tangled. He blamed the cool night air nipping his neck as he heaved her against him once more. Chest to chest, he noted how the stars shimmered in her emerald pools.

With no Alternate Shayne to mock him and no unsettling instincts to throw him off-kilter, the date almost felt normal. Still, the lack of Alternate Shayne bothered him more than he cared to admit. _Just be happy he's not here for once and focus on her._

"So, what game should we play first?" He nodded to a series of carnival games. With a blinding smile, she ducked out of his arms and started towards them.

Chuckling, Shayne paused to smooth down his pants. A slight bulge in his pocket surprised him. The fabric pinched between his fingertip, he peeped inside. His breath hitched; his stomach plummeted. _I don't remember buying this._ Nestled inside lay a small jar affixed to a black string, similar to the necklaces he had noticed earlier. Dread boiled in his gut. _What are you planning?_

Warmth thrust him from his thoughts.

"Everything okay?" Courtney asked, kneading his shoulder. Her heat calmed the ice slithering up his back, a tangible manifestation of his creeping panic.

"Just thought I lost something. It's nothing," Shayne lied. He refused to let her worry about him. Not tonight. Not on what was technically their first date. Lacing their fingers, they perused the prize-clogged booths waiting to be played.

Assorted stuffed animals dangled from each stand, though the human-sized teddy bears and dogs hanging from one game, in particular, grabbed his sights. Before he could even mention it, Courtney wriggled free and sprinted towards it.

The pockmarked teen manning the stall grinned at her, slicking his hair back with his spit. Shayne tensed as they fell into a conversation.

"You know, you're the hottest, right?" He heard the nasal-voiced teen squawk as he approached. Winding an arm around her waist, he hauled her against his side. Though Courtney leaned away, Shayne's grip tightened, the teen's gawking rasping his nerves.

"He's just a boy, chill," she whispered, elbowing his side.

"Is he bothering you, miss?" The teen dared to ask, his hand descending over Courtney's on the counter.

"She's — " His fangs clamped his lips. _My girlfriend._ Shayne ached to say, yet his illogical fear of sounding too possessive hampered him.

"We're here together, so if you don't mind." Wrenching her hand out from under the teen's grimy paw, Courtney spun to Shayne. Daggers shooting from her eyes prompted him to loosen his grasp. Instead of chewing him out like he anticipated, she simply sighed.

With a sharp pivot, she stormed off.

"Stick to girls your own age, pal." Shayne clucked his tongue at the teen before trotting after her.  
  
  
  
  
  


Courtney clutched a large unicorn plush to her chest as they meandered to his car. It wasn't really a unicorn, more a giant oval with a face, two ears, and a horn, a prize he had won from a water gun game.

Walking a few strides behind, Shayne grated his teeth. Claws of dread burrowed into his muscles, the necklace burning a hole in his pocket. _Am I supposed to give it to her?_ A shiver curdled Shayne's spine as he realized that, for once, he wanted Alternate Shayne to answer.

Unlocking his car, his eyes tracked Courtney as she tossed the plush into the backseat along with her new backpack.

"Ready to go already?" he asked, seizing her hand before she opened the passenger-side door. "The beach is right there."

"A late-night walk on the beach, how cheesy can you get?" She shoved his shoulder in jest. Skipping away from the car, her palm glided against his until just their fingertips touched. She waggled her digits against his.

"I'll race you," she said, sprinting towards the beach.

Sand engulfed Shayne's sneakers as he sprinted after her, little granules flying through the air coating his pants. A few trickled into his socks to irritate his skin, but he neglected it, too enamored with Courtney kneeling at the water's edge. Looking over her shoulder, she waved and sprung to her feet.

Picking up the pace, Shayne all but crashed into her, an irresistible attraction enticing his arms around her waist. He convinced himself this recent need for touch was to make up for the motel, but the truth still gnawed at his skull. Alternate Shayne's instincts. The same magnetic pull from the Diner. Though based on the smile illuminating her features, Courtney enjoyed it.

"Cheater." He grinned, their noses brushing. She pitched in, but he withdrew himself before their lips met. The sudden surge in Alternate Shayne's instincts perturbed him. _They've been with me the whole time, haven't they?_ His stomach clenched, recalling his behavior back at that booth.

Heart sinking upon noticing her smirk falter, Shayne intertwined their fingers and squeezed.

Water licked their shoes as they strolled away from the pier. The call of seagulls and whispers of traffic in the background permeated the salt-kissed air. Scanning the shore, Shayne heeded the few stragglers packing up their belongings, a drastic contrast to the hoard of tourists that had blanketed it when they had first arrived.

With the artificial lights in the distance, the stars painted the ocean with glitter. A dazzling sight that he lost himself to. His love for the ocean stemmed from his childhood, a simpler time that he cherished. Shayne swallowed his nostalgia. His life would never be that simple again

"About earlier." Courtney shattered the silence.

"About Damien being right?" Shayne groaned, extracting his hand.

"This isn't about being right or wrong, Shayne. It's about getting answers. It's about you being comfortable with yourself, with us." Shayne sighed, reading between her words. The motel. Him dipping out the second things got heated. The hurt mangling her features.

"I'm sorry I can't give you what you want," he whispered. His hands curled into tight balls, frustration simmering in his gut. _This is your fault. Too scared to do anything but mope. He's right; you're pathetic._

Courtney shook her head.

"When I told you I was okay with going slow, I meant it. Now, I might have trouble containing my wandering hands, but that's on me and not you, got it?" Courtney clasped his bicep. "It's the fear in your eyes I hate. I want to help you, but you need to help yourself too. You can't just sit and wait for this to blow over. "

"You don't know what it's like." Shayne grated his teeth. "You aren't trapped with someone degrading you day after day just for laughs. Fuck. You don't even have to worry about randomly Glimpsing because you can actually fucking control it. Do you know how terrifying driving alone is when you can just Glimpse in the middle of traffic?" His frustration boiled over into anger.

Noting a few heads turning their way, Shayne scoured the beach for a more secluded area. An abandoned lifeguard's shack up ahead called to him.

"Well, it's not going to get any better if you don't do something about it." Courtney shut the door behind them. Feet clunking against rotted-wood floorboards, Shayne paced the small shack.

"I know that. I just." — Shayne rifled through his pocket — "Do you remember me buying this?" he asked, the necklace dangling from his hand. "Because I don't." He tossed it to her. To his surprise, faint simper sparked her features as she inspected it.

"Shayne, when was the last time you wore those pants or washed them for that matter?" Courtney quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Years, maybe? I save them for dates, why?"

"Read it yourself." She chucked the necklace at him. Twirling the jar between his fingers, he squinted to read the word inscribed on the enclosed grain of rice. 'Dee', his ex's name. Shayne blushed as he cycled through his memories. He had taken Dee to the pier right before their break-up, probably why he had blocked it out. Her last gift to him had marked the start of their fights.

"Well, this is embarrassing." Shayne booted the necklace across the floor. Flattening his back to the wall, he plopped to the floor in a cloud of dust. Arms draped over his bent knees, Shayne lowered his head. "I just, I saw it and —"

"You thought Alternate Shayne took control without your knowledge?" Courtney asked. "Don't you think I would've told you that?"

"Like you told me about that little plan of yours at the motel?" The words slipped his tongue, his filter destroyed by anxiety.

"I did that for you, Shayne, but sure, let's go there."

"Did it for me?" Shayne furrowed his brow, a brief moment of eye contact he soon regretted. "I thought you had alcohol poisoning, Courtney. You know, seeing you unconscious with those beers in the bathroom. You don't need my approval, but a warning would've been nice."

"I messed up, okay?" Courtney inhaled, shoulders rolling back. She stepped towards him, fingers grazing his knuckles as if inviting him to look at her.

He refused.

"I should have told you, but you would've tried to stop me, and I just kept thinking about how if I got to the bottom of this, then maybe you would hold me." — Her voice cracked. — "I just wanted you to hold me." Intestines coiled around to crush the air from his lungs. Snatching her hands, he tugged her to the floor. Crawling between his legs, she pressed her back to his chest, and Shayne bound her in his arms.

"You're right, I would've tried to talk you out of it, but I wouldn't have stopped you. Not if you're heart was set on it. I'm not that kind of guy. I thought you knew that." Had he really changed that much since Alternate Shayne started invading?

"I know you don't want to hear it, but you're not you Shayne, not completely. I can see it. Your word choice. Your body language." —Courtney took a deep breath.— "When he took control at the Diner, he acted like he owned me. That was what terrified me. I let it cloud my judgment. But I was stupid to because that's the one thing that hasn't changed about you."

"You're wrong." Shayne loosened his hold. "His possessiveness is in me, Courtney. It's running through my veins as we speak. Do you know how many times I've had to stop myself from calling you mine?" Courtney scooted to face him, gathering her knees to sit on her feet.

"You are allowed to call me yours, you know. We are boyfriend and girlfriend, after all." She drilled a finger into his chest. "And frankly, I'm a little hurt that you won't."

"This is beyond that, this is wanting to mark you, to show the world who you belong to levels of mine. I don't want to be that. You don't want that. I know you don't. I know that—"

"Shayne." Her palms sandwiched his face. "Stop overthinking this. I'll let you know when you've gone too far, okay? And besides you feeling me up to prove your point to a teenaged boy, you haven't, you really haven't."

"I do that a lot, don't I?" Shayne capped her hand with his.

"You do. So maybe, instead of overthinking things, you can talk to me, and instead of going off and worrying you, I'll talk to you first?"

"I don't know, communicating like adults seems kinda crazy." Shayne chuckled, earning him a playful smack on the chest.

"I'm serious."

Shayne captured her lips. With Courtney reciprocating the kiss, he snaked his arms around her waist, her chest flattening against his. Her fingers tunneled through his hair as their tongues battled, his hands coasting down her sides to clutch her waist. Straightening his legs, Shayne hoisted her up enough to allow her to straddle him.

Fingertips climbed folds of black, her skin searing his calloused pads through the thin cotton. With him cupping her breast through her shirt, a soft gasp divided her lips. Shayne grinned, stretching her bottom lip between his teeth before trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw. She arched into him, exposing her neck for him.

Alternate Shayne's instincts pulsed.

"It's okay," Courtney said, her words hitching on her breath.

Teeth grazing her throat, he clamped down. Hard. Right above the juncture connecting her neck to her shoulder. A sharp moan pierced the air, her body rocking against him as he sucked a purple into her flesh. Nipping at the hickey now branding her skin, he craved more, teeth sinking in just above his mark. Her breathy pants rewarded him, egging his shakey hands to toy with her shirt.

"Shayne." Courtney pulled back.

"I'm sorry I— "

"No, I just don't want you rushing things for me. Plus, it's kinda not the best place to be unclothing," she said, adjusting her shirt before standing up.

"I'm fine with you being rough. I just don't want you to regret it." She smiled over her shoulder at him. Shayne smirked back, spanking the dust off her ass.


	23. Courtney

"And cut!" their director's voice echoed through Ian's living room, and a collective sigh responded. Chatter replaced the thick silence that went along with filming, crew members neglecting their duties in favor of fraternizing.

With the next few takes focused on Ian, Courtney exhaled, the stress asphyxiating her form rejoicing. Arms sprawling across the top of Ian's L-shaped sections, she slumped back and allowed herself to relax. An hour in the same position had tangled her achy muscles, her joints stiff with tension. She heard them crack as she wiggled her back muscles loose.

Filming with a single camera and half of their usual crew meant a one-hour shoot now took at least two hours to film if they limited breaks and made faster-than-fast scene changes. No dilly-dallying between takes. No goofing off. And no outtakes. Not unless they wanted to be filming well into the night. An outcome Courtney dreaded, already paining to retire to her bed despite just starting.

"C'mon people, we still have five more scenes to shoot. Camera and sound on marker two, and hurry!"

Tripods and tables screeched across the wooden floorboards as bodies scurried back and forth, rearranging the equipment for the next framing. Their movement haunted Courtney's peripheral vision, her eyes now trained to the ceiling as she stretched her neck.

Layers of dried concealer chafed her skin, threatening to expose the raw bruises coating her flesh. A souvenir of last night's make-out session. Her lips tingled and not because of the new citrus chapstick glazing them. Closing her eyes, heat flushed Courtney's skin as the taste of his lips permeated her mouth.

A shiver crawled up her sides. Though she enjoyed their little dance around second base, Shayne's new appetite disquieted the screaming cascade of cravings when their bodies met. His sudden change in confidence irked her, his timid approach transformed into one of pure, unfiltered desire. _I don't want you to feel forced._

"So, Courtney," Ian said, disrupting her train of thought. His peculiar tone propelled her fingertips to check that the caked-on foundation still retained its place on her neck. Panicked eyes softening, she rolled her shoulders back and smiled. "What's new? Any good gossip this old man's been missing out on? I heard some whispers flying around, sounded juicy."

"Not that I can think of. Why? What are people saying?" Her simper twitched, the possibilities of rumors injecting her with anxiety. Fidgety hands. Restless legs. Uneasy eyes. Courtney plucked at a loose thread tarnishing her blue jeans, hoping to empty her nerves. Her eyes drifted behind Ian's head. The strand coiled around her pointer snapped upon spotting Shayne. Propped against the wall, nails mangling his knees, muscles stiff, and lines sharp.

_Fuck._

Darkness burned the edges of Shayne's irises, black scorch marks marring their once crystal blue reflections. Contracted pupils drilled into Ian's back.

Letting Shayne act on Alternate Shayne's instincts was a mistake. Her impulsive decision fueled by sheer want, an undying hunger yearning to be satisfied. A desire that still hollowed her with an unsettling strength. One she wished she had stomached as Shayne's paranoid concern no longer seemed paranoid, what with this latest development.

The small evolution in the bedroom department, though appreciated, wasn't worth Alternate Shayne's sporadic and minute takeovers that had plagued the last few days. Never lasting longer than a few minutes, their effect lingered, each possession whittling away at Shayne's identity. It grew more evident by the day that Alternate Shayne's instincts would soon overpower Shayne's, and to be honest, it unnerved her.

Losing him scared her, and the fact that her horniness expedited the process... _What have I done?_ Lips leveled into a horizontal line, Courtney choked down the lump building in her throat. Dwelling on regrets with no viable solutions only worsened things. Understanding this, she funneled her anxieties on the positive outcomes. Any negativity rerouted to how his lips tasted. How his teeth sank into her neck. How his muscle trembled under her touch. _Don't go there. Not now._

Fingers denting her thigh eased the swelling warmth inside as she noted Shayne's tongue moistening his lips. It returned her to reality. Courtney furrowed her brow at him, and to her relief, his charred eyes flickered back to bright blue.

"Uh, everything okay back there?" Ian asked, turning to follow her gaze. Thinking fast, Courtney grabbed his arm, hoping to impede him. Why she did it alluded her, but nevertheless, it worked, Ian's attention remaining on her. She dashed her eyes to Shayne once more, and remorse slithered in.

The fire in Shayne's blue orbs blazed with vengeance, scalding flames morphing into pure death. Pretending to stretch her arms, Courtney gestured for Shayne to leave. A harsh scowl marred his complexion, but he complied, heavy footfalls marking his exit.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" Courtney straightened her expression, wishing for their director to just call action already.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Alright, everybody! Hustle, and maybe we can have an early lunch," their director exclaimed, throwing the room into chaos.

Desperation corroded Courtney's patience, its acidity eroding her fraying seams. She needed to find Shayne and fast.

Bolting to her feet, Courtney disregarded Ian and sprinted out the door. Letting it slam behind her, she loitered at the porch railing, utilizing the higher vantage point. Just an extensive array of fauna, woodchips, and sparse patches of grass, a patterned stone walkway that connected Ian's house to the road dividing it. No Shayne.

Sneakers smacked metal stairs, wind whipping blonds strands against her face. A rapid beat hammered on her sternum. Just as rubber soles landed on stone, Courtney gasped.

Calloused fingers enveloped her wist. Eyes climbing muscle, her tongue parted her lips.

_Shayne._

Lust deepened his crystal blue pools, his hooded eyes raking down her body as his fangs speared his chapped lower lip.

A sharp yank toppled her stance, feet struggling to stay upright as Shayne towed Courtney to a secluded nook.

"What the f--" Lips crashing against hers silenced her.

Rough hands seized her waist, her coarse wool sweater agitating her skin. Without breaking the seal of their mouths, Shayne backed her against a wall. He nipped at her mouth, begging for entrance. A lapse of judgment threaded her fingers into his hair, their whereabouts slipping Courtney's mind as she granted it.

His sudden weight compressing her body drowned the world as Shayne pinned her against the wall, his leg wedging between hers. A stifled breath escaped her, his mouth drifting down her jaw. Teeth scraping her neck jolted her inhibitions into working order.

"SHAYNE!" Courtney whisper-yelled, palms coasting up his cotton-covered chest to shove him off. His black T-shirt clutched in her fists prevented Shayne from stumbling too far away. Thumbs stuffed into his front pockets, his head yielded to conceal his crimson flushed appearance.

"Sorry, I —"

"Alternate Shayne, I know. I promise we're going to get to the bottom of it, but as much as I love this, Ian's house filled with our co-workers isn't exactly the best place." Palms flattening against his pecs, they climbed wrinkled black fabric to sink into Shayne's shoulders. A profound sigh escaped him, sapphire eyes quivering as he strove to maintain eye-contact.

"I can't take it. He can't take it. Can't take you holding Ian's hand, playing a fucking couple. You're pretending to get divorced for fuck's sake, and he still wants to rip Ian a new one." Shayne clutched her hips, fingers lifting her sweater to massage her skin.

Skin contact soothed Alternate Shayne; at least, Shayne said it did. Though Courtney had figured he just wanted an excuse to touch her — which she found endearing — it seemed to be the truth.

"Aren't they actors? Like, shouldn't they be used to it?"

"They have a deal. Something about only playing a couple with each other. I don't know, I wasn't exactly in the state of mind to listen." Shayne's head descended to her shoulder.

"It's getting worse, Courtney. It's fucking acting for God's sake, and I don't want to be this. I don't, but he — his instincts — they're taking me."

"Shayne, we've been over this. I know when Alternate Shayne's taken over; I can see it in your eyes. We're going to fix this. We are," Courtney said, a practiced reassurance that sounded stale.

"But they don't." Shayne lifted his head. Defeat drained his blue depths as they discovered her worried emeralds. 

"I should have just pretended I had schoolwork or a Goldberg's shoot."

"I can tell Ian you're sick if you want. Get a ride home with Noah."

"I'm not bowing out of a job, and I'm definitely not allowing you to go home with another guy." Gravel rasped his tone. _Good going Courtney, now look what you did._

Darkness engulfed his eyes, Alternate Shayne's signature smirk corrupting Shayne's face. Before Courtney could extract herself, he jerked her hips into his. _Is that?_ Fire eradicated her thoughts, a gasp hitching in the back of her throat. The anger boiling in her gut floundered, a brief disconnect dividing what she saw from what she comprehended.

"You're an ass, do you know that?" Her tone wavered with her fluster. Alternate Shayne chuckled.

"Hey, I'm just doing what that coward was too chickenshit to do." With that, fear replaced the darkness marring Shayne's eyes. Whites overwhelming his irises, his pupils dilated. Shayne faltered backwards, tripping over his feet.

Courtney stared at him, thighs clenched, and breath choppy. Despite these mini-takeovers becoming a recurring theme over the last few days, it never became easier to process. Both for her and him. How Shayne bounced back astonished her, their little encounters often leaving her speechless, and her cravings amplified tenfold. _I know I'm a horny gal, but this is too much._

"He was lying," Shayne said, kicking at the dirt. "He wanted that."

Skimming down the wall, Courtney sank onto the pebbles lining the perimeter of Ian's house. Knees gathered to her chest, she patted the spot next to her, but Shayne remained standing. She sighed. Sealing her eyes, her thighs clenched, the memory of him pressed against her searing her eyelids. The fact that it turned her on disturbed her. Even with him being her boyfriend, being manhandled like that had always been a mood killer. _Why now?_

"Fuck, I didn't mean it like that." Suddenly, Shayne dropped to kneel in front of her, his hands clasping her knees. "I want you, okay? I do."

The urge to haul him between her legs and lose herself spurred her skin, her only deterrent being their location. Fear spiked her heart. _I don't know if I could stop myself, even if you asked._ Springing to her feet, Courtney wobbled as her ill-prepared legs steadied. Though a few feet separating them, her body still thrummed for him with a level of want that alarmed her. _Is this Alternate Courtney breaking through?_

With the humming subsiding, Courtney tossed her concern aside and offered her hand to Shayne.

He accepted it.

"Stop worrying about me; I can handle it. What about you? What about the proposal scene? You can't just ignore that." She combed her fingers through his hair.

"I'll figure something out." The way he tightened his hold on her contradicted his words.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yo, Court-Court." Keith's voice reverberated through Ian's bathroom as he stepped up to the make-up littered sink and wall-length mirror. "What's up with that boy of yours?"

Shaky hands placed make-up remover on the counter as Courtney lited her gaze to glare at Keith's reflection. His smiling ivories sparkled under the fluorescent light. They contrasted his dark skin while matching the deviant shimmer in his brown eyes. Her annoyance melted in seconds, a stifled laugh breaking into a fit of giggles.

"You look like you just took the world's worst walk of shame." Her hand concealed her laughter. With his red wig slipping, its swept bangs ceased just above his eyes. Half-removed eyeliner streaked his cheeks. Spaghetti straps tied a black baby-doll dress around his neck, taped-on cups protruding from its plunging neckline.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it out. It's not like you look much better," Keith said, chuckles chopping his words as he slung an arm around Courtney's shoulder. Sourness shriveled her tongue. _Thank god Shayne's not here to see._ "So, about that boy of yours?"

"Hate to break it to you, but he's not my boy." Courtney fumbled with the bobby pins securing her wig cap.

"Bitch, you know I love you and all, but you got to be blind if you don't see him gawking at you." Keith raised an eyebrow at her. "And don't you even get me started on how he be glaring at anyone who dares look your way. That boy's got it something fierce for you."

"Oh man, we talking about Shayne being all pissy?" Noah chimed in. High-fiving Keith, he settled next to Keith at the sink to clean red lipstick staining his face. Disheveled, brown curls sprouted from his head, their usual volume dampened from wearing a wig. A pink babydoll dress clung to him, its overstuffed cups the only curves on his stick-thin form.

"Dude, did you see the way he glared at Ian? I thought he was going to punch him or something." His ear-to-ear smirk irked Courtney.

"That's what I've been saying." Keith grinned, elbowing her ribs in jest. "If that boy's not crazy about you, then something's whack because I have never seen him act like that before."

"He's just stressed, that's all." Courtney blushed, eyes tearing to her hands on the counter.

"Girl, now I know you can lie better than that." Keith slapped her back in jest.

"She just doesn't want to admit that they're fucking." Noah chuckled.

"NOAH!" Courtney paled, eyes widening as her eyebrows met in a point.

"What? I'm just saying if you put two and two together, then?" Noah shrugged, bent arms parallel to the ground and palms facing the sky.

"I can't believe you two." Courtney stomped her foot with an exasperated sigh. "There is nothing, I repeat, there is nothing going on between Shayne and me. Whatever stick he has up his butt is none of your business, so drop it, K?"

"Notice how she said 'your' instead of our," Noah mock whispered to Keith, hand cupped around his mouth for show. Keith nodded as his smile spread.

"God, you two are impossible." Courtney extricated herself from Keith's grasp. Collecting her make-up and accessories in a small tote bag, she stormed towards the door.

"Girl," Keith said right as she crossed the threshold. "I don't care if you two be slanging dong together or what, but I got yo' back. And this bitch does too even if he can't keep that big mouth of his shut, you got that?"

"And make sure he doesn't kill me when I propose, will ya?" Noah shouted as she marched down the hall.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Red edges stained the horizon, an evening breeze chilling the last vestiges of daylight's heat. It seeded Courtney's bare arms with goosebumps as she perched on a blue-grey concrete wall. With fifty takes under their belt and an SD card filled with bloopers, their director had called it quits. The magic of editing could save the few usable takes they had.

Despite Alternate Shayne flashing once or twice, his seconds of control failed to tarnish the proposal scene. No, the major issues revolved around the effects restraining him had on Shayne. Numerous takes soiled with stuttered lines, crooked smiles, and nervous energy. Energy that persisted as Shayne shifted his weight between his feet. Propped against a stone-brick wall carved into the hill across the street from her, Shayne kneaded thighs with vigor, his flame-crisped eyes fastened to her.

Courtney trembled. Passion flushing her skin clenched her fists. Thrusting off the wall, Courtney stalked towards Shayne.

"Courtney!" Ian's voice iced the hairs now standing on the nape of her neck. Her foot skidded against tar as she froze dead in her tracks. Icicles etched invisible tracks down her spine, her stomach inverting. _What now?_ She craned her neck, her body twisting with a fake smile tweaking her lips. "There wouldn't be something going on between you and Shayne now, right?"

"Not at all, why?" Sweat beaded behind her ears and not just because of Shayne's eyes drilling into her back. Ian's cracking voice and curiosity drenched timbre perturbed her. _He knows something._ Clenching her clammy fists, Courtney saturated her lungs with air that weighed the angles of her monotone expression and secured it in place.

"Oh, no reason," Ian said, "just thought I saw something, that's all. But if you say nothing's going on." Ian grinned, shoulders greeting his ears. A hint of dejection blemished his face for a split second that Courtney almost missed. "So wanna get lunch sometime next week?"

"Uh, sure?"

"Great! I'll text ya the deets." Ian beamed before hobbling backwards towards the chaos of crewmembers packing up. "And let Shayne know he's invited too, will ya? Tootles," he shouted. Courtney waved goodbye, and he whirled around and sprinted to their director.

Arm flopping against her hip, Courtney breathed. Her eyes darted to the stone-brick wall. Empty, no Shayne to be seen. Dust caked her mouth, eyes rushing to Ian. Not there either.

"So, what was that about?" Shayne's voice rasped her ears, a scalding heat dripping off his words. Spinning around, he stood an arm's length away though his lust still managed to scorch her flesh.

"We're screwed." Courtney gulped, eyes shifting to Ian monitoring them in the distance.


	24. Courtney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Smut

"What did it feel like when he started taking over?" Courtney asked, dangling toes dusting the carpet that bordered her bed.

A baby pink duvet billowed under her seated thighs, its folded fabric carding through her dainty fingers as they curled around the mattress' edge. Pillowed pink barred her hand from brushing against Shayne's as he sat next to her. His heat radiated through her arm despite their shoulders not even touching.

"His instincts, I mean," Courtney elaborated.

"Pins and needles. Except instead of pricking my skin, they lined my veins," Shayne said. Fabric twisting in his balled-up fists complemented his frustrated sigh.

"It's hard to explain. At first, it was this foreign tickle biting at my fingers, egging me into action. Sort of like muscle memory, except my muscles shouldn't have remembered what they ached to do. Now?" His audible sigh redirected focus from envisioning abstract doodles in her carpet to studying his face. Worried lips and tensed jaw, his Adam's apple bobbed. It strangled her stomach.

Silence clogging the room allowed his words to sink in, kickstarting her to cycle through the last twenty-four hours. Tunneling in on the immense heat she had felt at Ian's house, Courtney furrowed her brow. _I don't remember it feeling foreign._

Shaking her confusion, Courtney weighed herself with air. Her delicate fingers scaled mountains of pink to find Shayne's hand.

"It's okay." Reassurance tugged on the corners of Courtney's mouth.

"Now, it's not so clear," Shayne said. Their hands combined in an unidentifiable mess of digits. "What used to convulse my insides now barely registers as a dull hum. The line separating what's mine from what's his" — He leaned into her. — "It's getting lost in the heat of things, erasing me."

Despite witnessing this firsthand, Shayne's narration solidified her fears.

Air whipped her unblinking eyes that she aimed at the wall, her breath hitching in her throat. Paralyzed. Heart surging to her throat. Emotions aggregated in its place, a cacophony too tangled to identify holding her hostage.

"You felt something, didn't you?" Shayne's concern-laced words roused Courtney from her trance.

"I think so? But maybe I'm just a hornier bitch than I thought." A single laugh sliced the air as Courtney's gaze lifted to the ceiling. "No, I think I felt her before I..." — Courtney clutched her now healed wound.— "I thought it was my body acting on its own accord, but maybe —"

"Courtney, you would know if it was her, trust me." Shayne squeezed her hand. She yearned to believe him; after all, he experienced this up close and personal. Still, the raw lust from earlier, the fact that something that usually repulsed her had turned her on. She needed to be certain. She needed answers.

"Last time, she popped in to stop me," Courtney said, standing up. "I want to try again. Lure her out or plunge right in, whatever it takes."

"What if you're right, and doing this just makes it worse? What if he takes over while you're unconscious?" His words collided into one another, panic sharpening his tone.

"I can't just sit idly by and wait for something to happen all because of some 'what-ifs', Shayne." Her abs tensed, stomach muscles inverting upon discerning the pain distorting his features. A heavy exhalation and a mere nod marked his acquiescence. It churned her stomach. "Tell me I don't have to do this alone, that you'll be here when I return."

Blue orbs plummeted, fingers drilling into the bed. Frustrated regret stiffened Shayne's movement as he rose to his feet.

Anticipating Shayne marching out the door, Courtney steeled herself with a deep breath. Her lungs emptied in relief as he approached her instead. He grasped her hands, their linked fingers hanging between them.

"I'll call Damien, okay?"  
  
  
  
  
  


"So how drunk do you have to get exactly?" Damien asked Courtney as they perused the liquor store. Refrigeration units packed with beer and white wine lined the walls, condensed water fogging their glass doors. They overlooked rows of shelving units coating the store's grimy laminated-tile covered floor. One side held wine and beer, while the other displayed an array of hard liquor and an assortment of snacks.

"Too drunk for my liking, but it is what it is," Courtney said, snatching a cheap bottle of vodka. "Thank you for doing this, by the way."

"Hey, when I said I was here to help, I meant it. Plus, this is good research to see how this body link thing affects you while you're over there." Damien seized the bottle and arranged it in his handheld basket.

"How's that going? There must be some sort of pattern developing by now, right?" Their bodies grazed as Courtney squeezed through the narrow gap between Damien and the shelves. Waiting for him to answer, let alone move seemed like a waste of time when she just wanted to get this over with and cuddle up with Shayne.

"Something's there, but nothing conclusive enough to share," Damien said, trotting after her. Courtney sighed, wishing her ears had deceived her.

With Courtney finished paying, Damien gathered the bags from the counter and headed out the door.

"I'm more interested in what's going on with you. Shayne was pretty vague when he called, something about you needing answers?" Damien asked, scavenging the overfilled parking lot for his car.

"That's pretty much it. I'd rather keep the details between Shayne and me if that's okay?" Embarrassment flushed her cheeks with heat.

"So it's a sex thing, enough said." Damien grinned. His fat fingers fumbled, the parcels in his arms hindering his ability to retrieve his keys from his pocket. Courtney chuckled. "You mind?" Plucking the keys with ease, she unlocked his car and popped the trunk.

"So, besides that, how you holding up?" Damien placed the bundles down with care.

"Exhausted. Confused. Hollow. The list goes on. I'm just ready for this to be over." Courtney slammed the trunk shut. Her face twitched with her effort to maintain a false smile.

"That isn't the only thing, is it?" Damien offered a faint smile. She shook her head, her features falling. _I just want to feel wanted, by Shayne... My Shayne._

"I'm tired of seeing Shayne so broken and helpless all the time. I just want..." Courtney gulped down the wad of tears threatening to surface. "I want to relax without worrying about him. And I know he's under a lot of stress, but I thought he'd at least be here for me. For this. No offense. I'm grateful that you're here and all, but you're just not—"

"Him?" Damien laid a hand on her shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
  


Courtney clutched her fox plush to her chest as she sat criss-cross on her bed. The duvet removed to reveal her neatly tucked sheets. Damien hunkered down at her desk with his laptop opened to an empty word document. The bottle of vodka occupied her nightstand, residing amongst a few shot glasses along with her phone.

"So, I'll document the number of shots it takes for the static to start, then how many more you have to drink to Glimpse," Damien said. "You ready to start?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Courtney said, not paying attention. Snagging her phone, she flipped through her messages and texted Shayne. _We're starting now. I miss you._

Three shots in and static slicked her ears with a promise that inundated her veins.

Six shots fulfilled it as her mattress engulfed her, and she sank into static.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Courtney's essence glided into place, the trench it had carved out last time waiting for her soul. It slipped into the hole with ease, hooks latching onto their premade landings in seconds.

Static swarmed her settling consciousness, her senses fighting to establish.

A substantial breath silenced her skull, entrusting her with a numbness that clouded her form.

Everything seemed standard. Soft cushions cradled her supine form. Citrus wafted through the air. Something a tad musky confounded her, but Courtney disregarded it as belonging to Alternate Shayne.

An odd buzzing in her ear piqued her curiosity, though.

Opening her eyes, a blurred ceiling greeted her. A few blinks delivered enough clarity to identify the familiar furnishings skirting her peripheral vision. She was in the Alternates' bedroom.

With the final pieces of her soul stabilizing, the numbness dissipated, and fire set in.

Desperation scorched her. A throbbing need for relief between her legs that verged on painful. It enticed her hips to buck, color blooming across her vision. Too much. It was too much. Breath adhering to her throat, Courtney clenched her thighs in hopes of soothing her oversensitive nerves.

The radiating heat worsened as something hard pulsed against her.

Courtney jolted upright, but her arms failed to follow. Wrenched behind her back. Tied. Plastic handcuffs securing her wrists to the headboard held her arms in a 'Y' position. Yanking against them strained her joints, though the blaze frying her skin masked the pain. Ignoring her pulsating nerves, she searched the room as panic washed over her.

Relief emptied her lungs. No sign of Alternate Shayne.

Eyeing her body, a blue tank top clung to her form. Black shorts capped her thighs, loose material bunching around a small vibrator protruding from the waistband. It pulsed in short, sporadic bursts that coiled a spring to the point of exploding. Bringing her to the edge but never allowing her to fall.

The vibrations ceased the second her orgasm started to crest.

"What the actual fuck?" She flopped back down. A stifled moan arched her neck, her sudden movement providing some much-needed friction.

**_W-w-what are you d-doing here?_ **

_What am I doing here? Why am I.. Why are you tied up?_

**_H-he doesn't want me to t-t-touch myself, n-not while he makes up with Dame-Dame._ **

_And you're okay with this??_

Courtney eyed the cuffs. Cheap plastic. Breakable with enough force.

**_I c-c-can escape if I want to, but then I w-won't get rewarded._ **

_You know what? I don't want to know. Just tell me how to free myself._

With the throbbing decreasing, Courtney trained her focus on the restraints. Body writhing, she jerked against them. The wooden headboard creaked. The plastic cuffs started to give. A little more effort and...

**_STOP! Or h-he'll --_ **

The vibrator switched back on with vengeance. Its oscillations painful. Whimpered moans tumbled from her lips, undulating hips seeking friction.

_How does he know? FUCK._

Another pulse spurred her fingertips, cuffs clattering against wood at the thought of relieving herself.

**_Th-th-there's an app we use. It, it doesn't matter. Y-y-you want answers, right? Th-that's why you're here. You w-wouldn't just come here for fun. N-n-no, why would you?_ **

_What are you getting at?_

**_D-d-d-don't mess this up for me, and I'll a-an-answer them, or try to at least._ **

Despite the throbbing between her legs clouding her mind, Courtney focused on the risks. Tolerating the vibrations torturing her oversensitive bundle would constitute her biggest source of worry.

**_I-I-I've been on edge all week. P-please, you feel it. I need t-t-this._ **

Courtney swallowed, realizing why everything felt so built up. A week's worth of edging. A kink she had heard of in passing. How anyone enjoyed the painful oversensitivity searing her skin perplexed her.

_You're into this?_

**_N-not mine. N-n-no. He loves to watch me squirm, w-w-watch the world squirm, but mostly me. I can see it in how his eyes smile, the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that exists._ **

A sudden wave of passion crashed over Courtney, electrifying her nerves. Its foreign ache tingled the back of her skull, Alternate Courtney's unconditional love. An unsettling contrast from anything she had ever experienced before.

Hips hiking off the bed, pressure clenched her walls as her climax approached. The vibrations desisted, enticing a needy whine from her lips.

_I did not need to know that. Anyways, you said he was with Damien? How long? And shouldn't you be with him?_

**_A-a-an hour, maybe two. L-l-longer than three, and I'm allowed to free myself. N-n-no, they need to resolve this themselves. Me going, i-it wouldn't be a good idea. N-n-not after—_ **

_After mine fucked things up?_

**_N-n-not exactly, t-that didn't help, but I... I-i-it was my f-f-f-fault, mostly._ **

_You're fault?_

**_H-he doesn't like sharing, but Dame-Dame is our closest friend. I-I-I wasn't thinking, j-j-just wanted to try something new. I should have known better. I j-j-just —_ **

_Wanted a threesome? You do realize he's been taking this out on my boyfriend._

**_L-look, he has bad coping skills, okay? He couldn't g-give me what I wanted, and that freaked him out. A-a-nd I'm s-s-sorry he's taking it out on your boyfriend, but please, d-d-don't take it out on me._ **

It made sense. The anger. The hostility. It originated from more than just Shayne losing Alternate Damien a job. This was Alternate Shayne's possessiveness seeking an outlet.

_Are you scared of him? Is that why you stutter? I can help you get out of here._

**_NO! A-annoyed sometimes. N-not scared. N-never scared. He makes the worries fade away. I never have to guess with him. The s-s-s-stutter is s-something else._ **

A rush of what Courtney could describe as pure love and longing overwhelmed her.

_You really love him, don't you? Even though he's a controlling ass?_

**_He's my world, without him..._ **

Silence wiped her brain, a thick fog of lust simmering her form.

Courtney willed herself to disregard it, though the fact that it felt so foreign from before relieved her some. The vibrator remaining off also helped.

_Moving on, our bodies are linked, right? That's why when I cut myself in your body, it happened to my body in my world._

**_Y-yes._ **

_What else does that mean for me? Will I start—_

**_T-t-turning into me? I don't know. Th-this is new to us too, but I don't think so. I-I-I only feel the link when y--y-you're here with me._ **

_I felt you earlier. At least, I thought I did._

**_I-I-I shouldn't be t-t-telling you this. He kn-knows more. I could get it w-w-w-wrong. I'm probably w-w-w-wrong._ **

Courtney heard Alternate Courtney whimper, sniffled cries building. An alien sense of fear and shame strangled her intestines. It compelled her to retreat, to shrivel into a ball. Was she this scared of failure, of messing up without Alternate Shayne to guide her?

Before Courtney could scavenge a response to soothe Alternate Courtney's tears, static consumed her.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Courtney gasped awake, chest heaving, her body on fire. Expecting the usual numbness, her senses stabilizing within seconds prevented her from gathering her bearings. The only thing clouding her mind being Alternate Courtney's desperation. It pooled between her legs, the same painful throbbing as before.

Lust clogging in her mind, trembling fingers coiled around the waistband of her leggings. The sodden fabric clung to her legs as she shimmied the offending article down her legs and booted them to the floor.

Without hesitation, Courtney thrust her hand into her cotton panties, fingertips finding her clit. Sharp, short tugs. _Fuck, that feels good._ Her teeth clamped her tongue, another moan biting through as she canted into her busy fingers.

A sharp cough jerked her hand to her chest in panicked embarrassment. Damien. _SHIT, SHIT, SHIT._ Courtney snatched the sheets to conceal herself.

Opening her eyes, a blurred figure in the corner caught her now shock-widened emeralds. Damien watched. Damien just watched, and now he was approaching.

Her heart hammered her ribs as the figure neared, though her fear failed to suppress the foreign arousal coursing through her blood. It bit her fingertips now anchored in the sheets.

A rush of relief soothed her.

"Shayne," she breathed out. Her mouth dry, voice forgotten.

"You're back," Shayne said with a weak simper. Worry and desire swirled in his blue oceans as he dragged his eyes over her. It boiled her skin, tempting her fingers to start their fun once more.

"Where's Dames?" Courtney choked out.

"He called me, said I should probably be the one in here when you woke. He was beet red when he left, and I can see why." Shayne chuckled, towing the sheets away. Her tongue moistened her lips as he crawled over her. Hands planted at either side of her kept his body from touching hers.

"Don't worry, he left the room the second things got weird."

Loving concern poured from his blue orbs into her. It swarmed her with need, her fingers tangling in his hair. Jerking his head down, she captured his lips. Brutal, rushed, primal. She hoisted herself into him, brief friction that stole another moan from her before Shayne withdrew. Nails scraped his chest in protest.

"Slow, you just got back; you're definitely still tipsy." He snatched her hands and placed them on the bed.

"It hurts," she cried, arching up to him.

"God, Alternate Shayne warned me when he heard, but I thought he was joking," Shayne said, hand cupping her cheek. His thumb stroked her lower lip, tip dipping into her mouth. "You weren't meant to feel that, and he apologizes? Do you want to tell me what he was apologizing for? He wasn't exactly forthcoming with me."

"Handcuffed, on the edge. A week's worth of build-up or something. It felt like fire. Feels like fire." She panted out, her hips canting up to him on their own accord. _Stop, this isn't yours._ Breathing in, she grounded herself. "Please go, before I do something you aren't ready for. I don't want to pressure you."

"I'm not leaving you, not after everything you've done for me." Shayne kissed her forehead. "My instincts, his instincts, I've already taken that plunge. I think we've both realized that now." He nipped down her neck, licking the hickeys blanketing her skin. She whined, his teasing worsening the throbbing ache unraveling her inhibitions.

Leaning back, he drew her shirt over her head before removing his own. Cold air on exposed skin jumpstarted her brain.

"I can take care of myself." Hands flattened against his chest, ready to shove him away, but her fingerpads hooked into his muscle instead. "Please, let me take care of myself."

"But you don't need to, I want to take care of you. " She whimpered as his thigh wedged between her legs. Instincts bucked her hips against him, the friction eliciting a lustful moan that vibrated through her breasts. "I trust you to stop me." Shayne claimed her lips in a brief kiss.

"Shayne, I need you to stop before we both do something we'll regret." Confusion tinted his faced as he pulled back, eyebrows crinkling and mouth pursing. Nodding, Shayne extracted himself, moving to kneel on the corner of the bed.

The lack of his pressure mangled her nerves, amplifying her desperation. Neglecting it, for now, she grabbed his hand with a weak smile.

"I want this. I do. You know this, but not right now. Not when I'm riding the aftershocks of a Glimpse." _Not when you're doing this out of obligation, and not out of want._

"Do you want me to go?" a dejected Shayne asked as he swung his legs over the bed, his hands balling up in his discarded shirt. Courtney clamped her lips together. Did he want to watch? _Do I want him to watch?_

Embarrassment reddened her cheeks. Exposing herself to him, this intimate moment reserved for just her. The desire in his eyes answered.

"Stay, just hold me?" Courtney squeaked, fingers fumbling with her panties. His silent staring stalled her as her face crimsoned with embarrassment. It faded under his gaze, his hooded eyes lapping up her form as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

Shayne swallowed with a nod. Slow and deliberate, he crawled to the headboard, propping himself next to her. Arms at his side, hands fisting the sheets. His knuckled brushed her side. It sparked her into motion, her bra and panties joining the pile of clothes on the floor.

Thighs quivering, Courtney seated herself on his lap. Her side denting his chest and bottom against his crotch. Bent knees and softly planted feet. Her eyes never lost his as she threaded fingers through his hair, her legs spreading as her other hand kneaded her want slicked thighs.

"Is this okay?" she asked. His arm snaking around her waist told her yes. Fingertips like ice chilled her skin, soothing her as he hauled her closer. Snatching his hand, she hoisted it up to her breast.

Calloused pads tweaked her nipple as her fingers slid between her folds. Never breaking eye contact, she needed to know the adoration in his sapphire pools belonged to him. Clear, bright blue. Not a hint of darkness. A stifled moan pierced her lips, hips bucking into her fingers. The friction against his tented jeans cut her reserves, an uninhibited cry flinging her head back.

Hips undulating on his bulge complemented her fingers, her body humming at the physical proof of his want. It added to her flames, resonating with the pulsing heat at Ian's place.

Despite the chaos, despite the uncertainty, despite everything, he wanted her.

He wanted her, and that turned her on. Her. Not Alternate Courtney. Her.


	25. Shayne

With the sun setting hours ago, darkness poured over Courtney's near-silent room. The only sound originating from the subdued hum of her A/C, its frosty air accompanied the crisp evening wind that breached her thin apartment walls. It chilled Shayne's bare chest, seeding skin with goosebumps and easing the tightness in his pants.

The moonlight leaking through her blinds tangled Courtney's disheveled locks, beams casting an ethereal glow over her exposed back. Shayne sketched its path up and down her spine, fingertips skimming fire. Despite Courtney achieving her release not too long ago, her flushed skin burned his calloused pads. The lingering effects of her Glimpse simmering rather than coming to an end.

Searing flames soothed his chattering teeth, her naked form draped over him. Slickness-coated thighs straddled jeans as she buried her head in his chest.

Whimpered cries splattered his pecs, her tears terminating the last vestiges of his need. Overwhelming. Everything had been overwhelming. For her. For him.

The panic when Damien had called and worst-case scenarios inundated his brain. World spinning as he dodged red lights. His instincts. Both instincts frantic to protect. Their similarity running in tandem, simultaneous. Strength amplified as two acted as one for a brief instance.

The confusion when he had barged into her room and movement flooded his sights. Hitched breathing. Clenched fists. Pressed legs. A drastic difference from her usual unmoving form he had witnessed during her previous Glimpse.

The lust when her overpowering musk had infiltrated his senses and her need immersed his taste. Shayne shivered. The scent still lingered, now stronger than before. Coating him.

The sudden switch in Alternate Shayne's demeanor. This new level of intimacy. This revelation of trust. All at once, everything inundated him. A rush of information that his mind still struggled to process. A rush of information that had clearly shattered her.

_I'm here now._

Flattening his palm on the small of her back, Shayne hoped to reassure through touch.

"Don't!" Her trembling body inverted. Wrinkles marring her the creases of her eyes, her mouth contorted in a wince. Her anguish clogged his throat.

**_She's still oversensitive, you idiot! Christ, you've got a lot to learn._ **

_Ya think? What the fuck did you do to her?_

**_I didn't mean to, okay? This is something me and my girl have worked up to. If she... If you...If I... Do you think I wanted to get your girlfriend off? For fuck's sake, you're pervy._ **

_Look who's talking._

**_Well, maybe if you told me what she was planning, none of this would've happened. Ever think of that?_ **

_That doesn't answer my question._

A body wracking sob spluttered from her lips, tearing Shayne from his interrogation. Eyes falling to her broken mess sank his heart. Blonde strands shielded water-logged eyes and mascara-streaked cheeks as her chin dug into his sternum. Her lips quivered, pain and discomfort tainting her features.

"Hey now, I've got you," Shayne said. Combing his fingers through her hair, he cradled her head. Thumb grazing her temples reached to wipe a tear from her eyes. Guiding her ear to his heart, he fastened his eyes and breathed his tears away. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving, not if you don't want me to."

"It hurts. Why does it still hurt?" She choked out, tremors distorting her words. Nails scraping his pecs, she latched on to him.

"It'll go away. It should go away." He nestled his nose in her locks.

_It will, right?_

**_Look, she's going to be sore for a while. Right now, she needs you to take care of her, even if she doesn't know it. If she's anything like my girl, she probably thinks she doesn't deserve it._ **

_What does it look like I'm doing? I just... I can't believe I'm asking this, but how do I handle this? A bath seems too forward, but she's a sticky mess. And I know she won't like that. She doesn't like that, but I just want to make it better. How do I make this better?_

**Ask, you idiot. Aftercare is different for everyone. Babe likes nesting in her plushie collection after I bathe her. I know others who don't even want to be touched.**

_Why are you being so nice?_

**_Because I fucked up, okay? And despite you being a limp sack of shit, your chick's got spunk. She doesn't deserve to suffer._**

_And I do?_

"Shayne?" Courtney's quivering tone diverted his attention.

"What do you need? Do you want me to get you some clothes, or run a bath, or?" Shayne spilled through his words. Whimpers responded, strangled cries peppering his upper body with saliva.

"Tell me you wanted this. Tell me you didn't just do this because you had to, that I didn't push too far. It just hurt, and I needed. I didn't want to pressure you. But I did. And now you probably hate me. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Her insecurity constricted the air from his body. _She thinks..._ He swallowed, face hardening.

"Don't you fucking dare apologize for this. Courtney, look at me." Two hands cupping her cheeks, he tilted her eyes to his. "I chose to do this on my own accord. Me. The stupid ass who overthinks things to the point of helplessness and can't make a decision for the life of himself. I chose this."

Quivering lips pulled into a tiny simper.

"The second I saw you. The second I walked into the room, I couldn't take my eyes off you. Fuck, you were gorgeous. I almost didn't stop you, worried you wouldn't let me stay." His hovering thumb traced circles into her cheek. She leaned into his touch until his fingertips met her salt-caked skin. A brief moment that burst into another fit of tears within seconds

"I don't feel gorgeous. I feel sticky. And I want to shower, but I don't think my legs work, and I just want to feel like me again." Her head stooped, forehead to his chest.

"Well, you are. You're gorgeous and amazing, and I'm far too lucky to be able to call you mine, stickiness be damned." He smiled into her hair. "How 'bout this? I'll go run you a bath, maybe order some food? How does that sound?"

"You don't—"

"I know, but I want to." Rolling her onto her back, Shayne stroked his knuckles down her cheeks. Lips reassured her forehead before he extracted himself. Snagging the fox plushy from the desk, he handed it to her.

"I'll be right back, okay?" She nodded into the stuffed animal.

Shayne disregarded her slickness staining his jeans. Darkened denim — now stiff and awkward — chaffed his legs as he hurried to the bathroom. It failed to matter. No, nothing mattered. Nothing but tending to her.

Fluorescent lighting stabbed his corneas as Shayne flicked the light switch. Metal hoops secured a blue shower curtain that veiled a built-in bath and shower, its translucent plastic obscuring the stained white basin. It matched the toilet and sink. Footfalls echoed off the walls as he approached the bathtub. Metal clanking, and plastic swishing, Shayne swiped the curtain aside.

A singular wall-mounted handle sat midway between the faucet and the showerhead, limescale flaking on well-used metal. Squatting, Shayne plugged the drain before turning the tap on. Water cascaded into the basin, droplets splashing off porcelain to splatter his skin. The sound reverberated through the small box, drowning out the world as Shayne's hand dove under the heavy stream.

With the water adjusted to just the right temperature, Shayne flapped the wetness from his hands before standing up. Stretching his shoulders, he pivoted to the stand-alone cupboard tucked in the corner next to the toilet.

Stacks of folded towels filled its shelves, a decent variety of colors and sizes. Assorted bathroom toiletries littered the smaller cubicles. Snagging two towels — one large one for her body and one smaller one for her hair, Shayne arranged them on the toilet seat.

Closing the cupboard doors, a portable Bluetooth speaker hidden on a topmost shelf prompted Shayne to sneak back to her room. Bare feet paused at the threshold; he leaned against the door frame with a bittersweet smile.

Dead center on the bed, Courtney's lithe frame curled around the fox plush. Blonde strands fanned around her. Rumpled sheets encircled her, folds spiraling to resemble a pinwheel. An angelic sight if he omitted her muted cries penetrating the air.

Snatching his phone from the desk, he scurried back to the bathroom. A playlist chosen — one Courtney had created for him prior to this parallel universe chaos —and Bluetooth connected, Shayne diverted his attention to the tub. Warm but not too hot. Water level decent. He turned the water off and speed-walked to Courtney's side.

"Angel, think you're ready for that bath?" Shayne asked, the term of endearment departing him without thought. Squatting on the edge of the bed, his hand hovered over her arm. Abandoning the fox plush, Courtney scrambled to collect the sheets around her. Pale blue engulfed her form. Wobbling legs and a shaky arm scooted to the edge, the sheets clutched to her chest with one hand.

Emeralds strayed from him as she dangled her legs over the floor, nervous fingers twisting the sheets. Her shame asphyxiated his heart.

"You're amazing. You know that, right?" Kneeling to find her eyes, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't have to hide, Courtney. You have no reason to be ashamed. None. You're too beautiful, strong, my girlfriend."

"I don't think I can stand," she squeaked, a faint simper toying with her lips. Shayne chuckled.

"Is it okay to touch?" With her silent approval, Shayne wrapped an arm around her waist. Fingertips denting cotton, he guided Courtney to her feet. Heat seared his side as she sagged against him.

Hand to her chest, bundled folds carded through her balled-up fingers. The sheets dragged on the floor as they hobbled to the bathroom in silence.

Depositing her on the bath's edge, he kneeled once more and placed his hands on her knees. "Do you want me to stay?"

Teeth clamping parted lips, Courtney averted her gaze. A curtain of blonde shielded her crimsoned complexion. Thought pursed her mouth and furrowed her brow. A welcomed sight compared to the inconsolable mess he observed earlier.

Kneading her muscle through the sheer cotton, Shayne waited for her to answer. When silence stayed longer than expected, he realized this was more than just her needing time to think.

"Why don't I help you in, and then I'll wait just outside the door. You can call me if you need something, anything at all," Shayne said with a sigh before making to stand.

"NO!" Her nails gouged his wrist. "I don't want to be alone. Not again." Her frail voice wavered, tears catching on words. Guilt hit Shayne hard. Abandoning her with Damien, departing to run the bath. Forcing her to urge him to stay when he should have known better.

A kiss comforted her forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere." Courtney discarded the sheet, blue cloth pooling on the floor. Worried someone might slip on it, Shayne toed it to the side as he rose.

One hand on her shoulder, the other aided Courtney's legs into the tub. With her submerged, Shayne slid to the floor and propped his back against the cold basin. Joining her, even wearing his boxers, seemed far too intimidating.

**_Well, it's a start._ **

_I don't want to move too fast. She's still fragile, and this is new to me, okay?_

**_Fair. It's probably a good thing you're learning how to do this now._**

_Yeah, well, I hope I never need to do this again. Not the taking care of her part, the seeing her so helpless part._

**_You're going to have to. One way or another._ **

Melancholy corrupted Alternate Shayne's tone.

_Is there something I should know?_

**_Later, focus on her for now. We'll talk logistics another time. It's something she needs to be present for. And right now, well, just take care of her, will ya?_ **

_Okay, this new caring side of you is starting to creep me out._

Shayne sighed, Alternate Shayne's presence weakening. Still there, instincts simmering under the surface. The relief he anticipated never arrived, Alternate Shayne's somber tone and out of character empathy strangling him with confliction. _Does he have feelings for her?_ Shayne tossed his head. _No, that's ludicrous._

**_IF YOU EVER FUCKING IMPLY THAT I AM A CHEATER, I WILL END YOU. Got it? Or am I not allowed to care for a friend?_ **

_She's your friend now? Should I be jealous?_

**_Push your luck. I dare you._ **

Fingers tunneling through his hair redirected his focus, body shifting. The cold porcelain frosted his shoulder.

"Everything okay?" Her warmth coasted down his face, propelling Shayne to cap her hand with his before she could retract.

"I think, I think I'm ready to get out." Shayne nodded.

With the towels now balanced on the sink, he returned to Courtney's side, folding over as his arm snaked around her. Shayne lifted her with ease, carrying her bridal style to the toilet.

Arms crossing her breasts and knees crushing together concealed her intimates as he draped the larger towel over her shoulders. She clinched the edges tight while he towel-dried her wet tresses with the smaller one.

Her hair semi-dry and skin shivering, Shayne escorted her to her room and perched her on the edge of the bed.

"I'm just going to find you something to wear, is that okay?" She nodded, teeth chattering. Rifling through her draws, he snatched the first pair of cotton underwear he discovered and placed it next to her. He then searched for a shirt, something that large and lightweight that wouldn't cling to her skin.

His heart stopped upon spinning to check on her. His shirt. She was wearing his shirt. The material pooled around her crisscrossed legs, the fabric stretching though he couldn't care less. Moonlight freckled her bowed face. A feeble grin brightened delicate features as she fiddled with the hem. A breathy laugh tumbled from his lips.

"Sorry, I just... It smells like you, and I was cold, and..." she trailed off, words rushing together in a panic.

"What did I tell you about apologizing?"

"But now your shirtless and cold, and you're staring, so I thought —"

"Don't worry about me, I can take the cold," Shayne said, falling to his knees. Ducking his head, he encountered her eyes as his fingertips sought her skin. They caressed her blushing cheeks. "It's just hard not to gawk when my shirt looks so good on you." He kissed her. Short and soft. Filled with affection. 

"Thank you," Shayne said as they cuddled on her couch. Boxes of takeout covered the table, a bad movie on the TV. Courtney sat in his lap, his arms around her and hers embracing the fox. He kissed her temple. "Thank you for letting me in on such a private moment, for letting me help, for letting me stay."

Courtney twisted to him, her cheek against his bare chest as she hoisted her eyes to him.

"Thank you for being you."


	26. Shayne

Mouthwatering scents of spices and meat wafted through the cozy, traditional-style Mexican restaurant that Ian had chosen. Bright orange walls contrasted the vibrant green trim outlining the windows. Intricate, hand-painted murals graced any vacant space, black-lined neon colors portraying an homage to Mexican culture.

White laminate counters sandwiched between faux green leather booths spotted the walls. They boxed in stand-alone tables littering the floor, armless chairs tucked under circular wood tops. All empty, the handful of lunch patrons occupying the booths instead.

Soft guitar muffled conversations, the crisp finger-picked notes filtering through the wall-mounted speakers hiding in the corners. Despite one located above their booth, Shayne's worry drowned it out.

Waking up to Ian's text had kickstarted their chaos-clogged brains into a frenzy, exhausted bodies scrambling at his reminder. How they had managed to forget still perplexed Shayne though the entropy corroding their day-to-day lives, as of late, provided a logical yet unusable justification. Hysteria lacing desperation, their frantic supplications for a raincheck had been dismissed, Ian's insistence on this meeting swarming them with dread.

Faux leather squeaked as Shayne shifted his weight, restless energy inundating his skin. A vibrating hum. Circumspective blues flickered between Ian across the table and Courtney beside him, crushed against the wall. Space. Striving to create distance to simulate the illusion of 'just friends'. A denial-drenched lie. Ian knew, but admitting their truth just seemed daunting.

Truth be told, Shayne wanted to confess, his usual requirement of privacy taking second stage. Old and new traits contradicting disquieted his nerves. Misaligned elements of himself. Blaming Alternate Shayne disappointed, this compulsion to concede stemming from something outside Alternate Shayne's drive to claim, to show Courtney off to the world.

No. It originated from a far more selfless quality.

Last night's aftershocks still lingered, both his and hers. Though he could handle himself just fine, Shayne fretted that with her fragile mental state, the stress of lying for a lost cause would overwhelm her. In the end, denying her desire alluded him, her timid pleading and puppy-dog eyes overriding his resolve.

Though her confidence in his inadequate capacity to bluff baffled him.

"Shayne, you still with us?" Ian's sharp voice drew Shayne back to the conversation at hand, something about the future of Smosh or whatever.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, just lost in thought. Sorry," Shayne said, eyeing Courtney. Her shorts-topped thighs beckoned to him, shoulders starving to be wrapped. His protective nature — the common denominator uniting him and Alternate Shayne — hummed, leftover remnants adding to his burden. Itching him to touch, to comfort, to console.

Her brittle simper failed to reassure him. Fingers plucking at the seat exacerbated his apprehension.

**_Hey Coward, you just gonna sit there and watch her panic like that?_ **

_Does it look like I have a choice?_

Alternate Shayne pulsed.

_I don't like it either, okay?_

"Well, now that you've decided to grace us with your presence, let's continue, shall we?" Ian leveled his lips in a suppressed smile. "So, we have some interest, a few leads overseas, but nothing solid enough to drop names, unfortunately." Ian shoveled a large forkful of burrito into his mouth.

"You're eating your burrito with a fork, really?" Shayne quirked an eyebrow. Fingertips denting tortilla, flavor burst into his mouth as he chomped down on his over-stuffed burrito. Crumbs of beef, salsa, and beans toppled onto his plate, speckled-debris contaminating his stubble. Shayne dabbed it away with his napkin, discarding his half-finished meal for the meantime.

"Let me live, Bro." Ian laughed, swishing his fork through the air as he spoke. "So anyway, leads, I was talking about leads."

"We only have a month til..." Courtney interjected, plunging eyes expressing her regret. Concern-saturated blues tracked them to her anxiety fiddling with the frayed threads of her shirt. Teeth grating, his instincts on fire. Protect her. Shelter her. He nudged her untouched plate towards her.

"Til Smosh gets auctioned off to the highest bidder, which could be some corporate sell-out who's worse than Defy?" Ian's words crashed into one another as he stared at her. Bewilderment filled wide brown eyes. "Oh yeah, I'm aware."

Shayne stifled a grunt upon witnessing Courtney shrivel into the corner. The urge to secure her to his side challenged the ache to punch Ian — his brazenness hurting her incentivized Shayne's fists.

Nails stabbing his knees barred Shayne from acting on impulse.

**_So, this Ian of yours, he's a lot more... Nervous than I expected. Then again, I suppose the lot of you are all a bit, how should I put it, lacking?_ **

_Great, anything else you deem worthy enough to share? Or will I have to endure your obnoxious whining this entire meal?_

**_Well, at least you aren't at that bloody diner. Fucking place needs to burn to the ground already. Say, you wouldn't know any arsonists, would you?_ **

_Why do you hate that place again?_

**_Another time, another place. Maybe when you aren't neglecting that fragile angel? That's what you called her, right? Angel?_ **

Clenching his fist, Shayne expelled his frustration and flattened his palm on the cushion, sliding it towards her to skim her thigh. Bare skin twitched. Her delicate hand capping his, she laced their digits and squeezed before abandoning his fist a few inches away. Watching her start eating, Shayne exhaled in relief.

"Look, I know things are rough, but I'm trying my best here. And for the meantime, we'll continue filming at my place as usual. You know, because you haven't scuffed it up enough already." A playful glint betrayed Ian as he glowered at Courtney. "I'm talking about you, missy."

"You saw nothing!" She pitched over the table, locking sights with Ian as she chomped into her burrito.

"Okay, then." Ian smirked, palms lifted in surrender, and his eyebrows raised.

Seizing her collar, Shayne wrenched her back against the booth with a tenuous laugh.

A pout marred Courtney's features, puzzlement wrinkling her brow. His pointed look cautioned her not to overdo it, though Shayne worried her nerves had already fragmented. Blonde locks on his shoulder validated him.

"Ignore her." Palm cupping her head, Shayne indulged his fingertips with a brief moment of skin contact before shoving her off with a fake smile. He hoped to play this off as their normal shenanigans. "She may have spent the whole night watching bad sequels and pretending she can't sing." It slipped his tongue without thought. Regret weighing his stomach and caking his mouth.

"Hey!" She jabbed her finger into his breast. "You take that back. Grease 2 is a masterpiece, and you know it."

"So, you two spent the night together?" Ian cocked his head, amusement adorning his face.

"As friends!"

"Just friends."

"Really, so that's why your hand's still on her shoulder, Shayne?"

What? No, he never. When did he? Shayne twisted to Courtney. Panic swallowed his eyes. Just like Ian had said, his hand rested on her shoulder. Ripping it off, Shayne fastened his nails to his knee. A shallow grin brimming with guilt responded to Courtney's troubled glare.

_WHEN DID YOU?_

**_That was all you, Bucko._ **

_Okay, your Ian might know, but, fingers crossed, ours doesn't. So KEEP YOUR. MY. JUST HANDS, DON'T MOVE._

**_Ah, sweet, sweet denial. Such an unfortunate friend to possess, don't you agree? An acquaintance fit for a coward, I suppose._ **

"I had a panic attack!" Courtney all but shouted, anxiety drenching her wavering timbre. Her outburst marked her disintegrating stability as her nails pierced his bicep. "Last night, hence the crappy movies, and him staying over. I...I didn't want to be alone."

"Yeah, uh, I was just checking in." Shayne backed her up, grateful his tone held steady. Lying was her forte, not his.

"Right, a panic attack." Annoyance contaminated Ian's amusement for a fleeting second. "Well, I can't fight you there. Between, well, everything really, I've had quite a few myself."

Emptying his lungs, a window of hope blinded Shayne. _Maybe we can lie our way through._

"Say, since you seem to be the go-to guy around here, think I could borrow those ears of yours?" Ian's proposal extinguished it.

"Sure?" Shayne shrugged.

"Great, so sleepover at my place tonight? I'll provide the movies if you bring the food. How 'bout tonight?"

"You want to have a sleepover?" A nervous chuckle quaked Shayne's chest, eyes darting to Courtney. Fingers twisted the hem of her shirt, arms straight and head bowed. Teeth worried her bottom lip as she evaded his gaze. Leaving her alone. Shayne shook his head. No, not an option. Even it was, their current predicament with the Alternates forbade it.

Shayne sighed. Coming clean started to sound appealing.

"That's what friends do, right? It wouldn't be awkward or anything like that. I mean, at least, I have a guest room." Ian steepled his hands, fingers jutting up into his chin. "Say, which of you got the bed?"

"She did," Shayne blurted out. Short and to the point to disguise his faulty fabrication, yet his fluster threatened to divulge his truth.

"Don't tell me Courtney gets special treatment now."

"No, I mean." Shayne clamped his lips together.

"So, what's the problem then? It wouldn't be because you're dating Courtney now, would it?" A wicked grin corrupted Ian's face, subdued giggles chopping his breath.

"Of course not, no. What makes you think that? No." Shayne's voice cracked.

**_You're a bad liar, you know that, right?_ **

"You're an easy tell, Shayne." Ian tossed his head, shaming him.

"Who says I'm lying?"

"Well, this picture for one." Ian retrieved his phone from his pocket, swiping through it before launching it across the table.

Shayne snatched it, panic contracting his pupils as he gaped at the screen.

A selfie of that pockmarked teen beaming, his thumb pointing to a blurred Shayne and Courtney in the background. Embracing.

"That could be anyone." Shayne tensed his jaw as he handed the phone to Courtney. Whites consumed her greens, trembling fingertips zooming in on the photo.

"Fuck." She slumped over the table, forcing her plate to the side in the process. Shayne's hand soothed her back, soft circles that paralleled her breathing. No purpose hiding now.

"So that is the two of you, right?" Ian strummed his fingers together, grinning.

"Yep." Shayne's voice cracked.

"Chill, I'm not mad. I mean, I'm a little mad I had to find out through some kid DM-ing me on Instagram, asking if the two of you were dating. I told him no, by the way, but that's beside the point." Air puffed from Ian's nose. "Why didn't you just tell me? Boss or not, we're friends, aren't we?"

"With our contracts, plus we were worried..." Courtney stumbled through her words as she straightened up. Tucking herself against Shayne, she guided Shayne's arm around her shoulders. He hauled her closer, habit planting a kiss to the top of her head.

"Worried that the fans would see you? Well, you sure did shit to keep it hidden." Ian snagged his now deserted phone. "Look, contracts can be rewritten. What I am worried about is Shayne's behavior on set."

"Behavior?" Courtney chirped, anxious eyes shooting to Shayne as she retracted from his hold. Stiff and hesitant, Shayne released her.

"Him looking like he wanted to kill anyone who got near you?"

Time froze, walls stretching as he shrank. His intestines constricted, sweat beading on his forehead. Air thickening. Disjointed breaths no longer satisfying his body's demand for oxygen. Lightheaded, a foggy haze rasped the edges of his vision. Dust coated his mouth. His voice forgetting him.

Faint static tickled his ears, and impulse latched his fingers to her thigh, warm heat grounding him for the moment.

Ian noticed.

Ian had noticed, and now his reputation as the soft respectful gentlemen was tarnished. Alternate Shayne's jealousy confused for his, and there was no talking his way out without exposing their secret. Fuck. He told her this would happen, and it did, and now everything was over. Done. Collapsing in on him. Ending him. Fuck, why didn't he just listen to his gut and stay home?

"Not to mention you two dry humping on my lawn." Ian rubbed his eyes.

"You saw?"Courtney's shoulders greeted her ears, heat crimsoning her face.

"Did you really think I couldn't see you? My house is like seventy percent windows. Look, just keep the PDA to a minimum, will ya? My eyes can only take so much. Oh, and Shayne?" — Shayne bobbed his head without looking. — "Learn to control this new jealous thing you've got going on. It's gross look for you, Dude. Have some respect."

Fingertips dented flesh, Shayne's grip constricting Courtney's thigh. Her fingers entwined with his, an act of comfort that skimmed his agitation.

"So, we're good then?" Courtney breathed out in relief.

"Not exactly," Ian said, a profound sigh trailing his words. "First off, you owe me a hundred dollars for getting that photo taken down; you can thank me later. What I really want to know is what you plan to tell the fans?"

Voice departing him, his once parted lips sealed. Ian's question thrashed his brain, a spiraling whirlwind ravaging his skull with a bombardment of responses. None of which fulfilled Ian's inquiry, all reiterations of the same half-assed excuse — _I don't know._

_Fuck._

**_You forgot, didn't you? Figures._ **

_What's that supposed to mean?_

**_Nothing, just nothing. Though whatever you choose, you won't be here forever.  
_ **

Static distorted Alternate's Shayne's words, dread spiking his skin. Saliva clogged his throat. He kneaded Courtney's muscle, praying an increase in contact would secure him to this world.

"That kinda slipped our minds," Courtney admitted, glancing at Shayne. 'Stay,' she mouthed.

"I think we should wait." Alternate Shayne spoke for him.


	27. Courtney

Courtney snatched Shayne's gift from the glossy black countertop, a plastic GameStop bag concealing the latest videogame release. Though she willed her feet to move, muscles denied her. The game weighed her arm, its insignificance paralyzing at the cash register. Petty and material. A band-aid. It skimmed the surface, a temporary suture for nonsuperficial wounds.

Plastic cut into her palm, the terror plastering his face after parting with Ian the other day — two to be precise — flashing behind her closed eyes. Distinct, new, a fear that reassurances disappointed to quell.

Something had happened. Something beyond Alternate Shayne taking over. Something beyond Alternate Shayne wanting to talk to her — though that terrified her as well. No, whatever had haunted his eyes that day had remained behind sealed lips. Twitching. A telltale sign. Though his lie of omission troubled her, his demand for space tormented.

"Enough small talk, what's so important that it couldn't wait till after Christmas?" Olivia asked, breaking Courtney from her spiral.

Green eyes graced chocolate orbs in a fleeting moment of eye contact. Concern and apprehension married the brittle smile her Asian counterpart wore, a show of compassion shattering her already precarious mental state. Her stomach plunging to the ground contrasted the word-vomit climbing her esophagus.

Tears slicked their ascent.

Rubber soles smacking linoleum echoed off high ceilings as Courtney bolted from the store. The grey interior marring her peripheral dissolved into a speckled white that permeated the multi-level shopping mall. It blinded Courtney, eyes squinting as she paused to orientate herself.

Christmas garnishes adorned the overcrowded plaza, swarms of last-minute shoppers packing the second-story walkway she stood on. Tinsel trimmed a glass-paneled railing. The generic snowflake stickers glued to them obstructed the ornament-adorned trees and Santa-themed installations dotting the spacious lower level. An artificial winter wonderland reinforced with tacky jingles that Courtney neglected as she sprinted down the overpacked aisle.

"Wait up!" Tiny fingers seized her wrist as Olivia jerked her to a stop. "I get that something's up, but you can't just call me out of the blue and then ditch me. Spill the beans, girl."

"I know, I just." Sights dropping, Courtney toed the ground. Restless fingers cleaved lines into her spiraled pads. "Can we walk and talk?" Olivia nodded, loosening her grip.

A feeble simper propelled Courtney forward at a brisk pace that her shorter friend struggled to maintain. Though the speed restored Courtney's unraveling composure, it hindered word retrieval and barely blanketed her fried nerves.

Too intimate for Damien — or any guy for that matter — and too heavy for Shayne's fragile condition, desperation to talk had contacted Olivia when her bottled-up panic threatened to explode. Shayne's sudden shift in affection, his refusal to communicate, the stress saturating her consciousness, it all convened in an electrical storm frantic for an outlet. _He said it was fine. Just go for it._

"Do you remember..." Words refused her mouth. Lips clamped, blonde shielded her quivering features as she trained her eyes on her feet. Heel to toe, she tracked the edges of the tile like a balance beam. "I've been..."

Pivoting to stall for time, tinsel rasped skin as her fingers coiled around the railing. It dented her abdomen as she doubled over it to gain a bird's eye view. She gasped. Ants scurried up and down the patterned floor below, bundles stuffing their arms. A family in matching sweaters twitched her lips. Perceiving a presence beside her, she peered over to discover Olivia following her line of sight.

"Does it have something to do with why you aren't with your family for Christmas?" Courtney gnawed on her cheek, offering Olivia a reticent nod. With Alternate Shayne's unpredictable takeovers and Shayne's inability to control his Glimpses, both had elected to forgo their holiday traditions. Though her parents weren't delighted with the news, she had negotiated their objections with a shallow deception of being required at work. Shayne's... Their booming voices and his pale complexion had said enough. _If they only knew..._

"Don't freak out. I know I should have told you sooner." Courtney took a deep breath in. _Start small, you can work up to the big things._ "Shayne and I... He asked me to be his girlfriend. Well, he didn't exactly ask, but yeah... Surprise! We're dating!" Olivia squealed, suffocating Courtney with a back-breaking embrace. Her fading smile as Olivia retracted notified Courtney that her fake one fooled no one.

"But that's not why you called me, is it?" A knowing simper tipped Olivia's lips as she turned her back to the banister.

With a powerful exhale, Courtney twisted, tinsel scratching the small of her back. Plastic crinkled in her hand as she clenched her fist before Shayne's present plummeted to the ground. She kicked it behind her feet.

"Has Sam ever lied to you?" Courtney blurted out, unlocking the floodgates. "Well, not a lie-lie per se, a lie by omission. Like he'll tell you a truth but leave something out? Maybe I'm just overthinking things. Do you think it's contagious? Overthinking, that is, because I swear he's infected me. I mean, we've only been dating for two weeks, yet it feels like months. And I just keep thinking that with everything moving so fast, it's okay if we still have some secrets. But he just gets so lost in his head all the time, and we promised to be more open with each other. And —"

"Courtney, slow down," Olivia interjected as she planted a hand on Courtney's shoulder. "I can barely keep up. Whatever is going on, it's clearly bigger than some lie. You want to grab a coffee or maybe just head back to my place? I have some gingerbread houses in need of building."

"So," Olivia breached the silence as they got in her car. Courtney flinched. "You seemed pretty distressed back there. Care to share?"

"It's a long story." Courtney lowered her gaze, fingers fumbling with her seatbelt. "You probably wouldn't believe me anyway."

"Sam isn't due for hours, and you know me, I believe in all sorts of things," Olivia said as she revved the engine. The motor's roar vibrated into Courtney's skull, her forehead now leaning against the window. "Trust me, I've heard it all, so unless you're about to tell me you're a butterfly, I'm not going to freak out. You aren't a butterfly in disguise, right?"

"I've been... You can't tell anyone, okay?" With Olivia's silent acknowledgment, Courtney inhaled, thumbs fiddling as she continued. "Shayne and I, we've been traveling to a parallel universe, sort of. The details are still foggy, but we think our souls are being implanted into our counterparts in that universe. It's confusing, and I wish I knew a better way to explain it. But I don't."

"So like that movie Get Out?" Olivia clarified, body bending as she backed out of the parking space. 

Polished wood cabinets and drawers painted the walls of Olivia's spacious open kitchen. Grey tile backed a small alcove cleft into them, exposed granite counters containing a deep, inset sink. Sterling silver appliances furnished the space with a professional aesthetic, though a plastic folding table situated in the middle of the room compromised it. The contents of two commercial gingerbread house sets littered the tabletop, their discarded boxes at Courtney and Olivia's feet.

Though catching Olivia up on the last few weeks of chaos had organized her brain, Courtney's hands still trembled as she clutched the bag of frosting. Jagged white flopped over the edge of a supporting wall, leaving substantial gaps of brown cookie. Abandoning the sugary glue for another piece of gingerbread, she pasted them together. Uneven and lopsided but stable. At least for now.

"He has a secret, so what?" Olivia shrugged, setting her frosting cement down to admire her art. Neat columns of white secured four straight walls begging for a roof. "You've been dating for less than a month; it's not unusual to harbor secrets in the beginning. Sure, the circumstances are a bit bizarre, but opening up happens with time. I'm sure you've withheld some things of your own."

 _I've told him everything, right?_ Lips leveling, Courtney gathered the roof for her collapsing walls. _Well, not everything..._ With Shayne's impromptu avoidance, the opportunity to inform him about her latest Glimpse had evaded her. _Does that even count?_

"It's just... We've been pretty candid about things. Sure, the first week was rough, and I had to pry the words out of him half the time. But we promised to talk like adults. Plus, after the other day..." The memory's resurgence heated her cheeks. His eyes never straying from hers. His hands kneading her chest. His warmth against her naked back. A now distant intimacy despite it occurring just a few days prior. "He's seen me at my most vulnerable. I just figured—"

"You've had sex then?" The biscuit in Olivia's hand crashed on the table, missing the picture-perfect hut on her plate. "After two weeks? Not that I'm judging, but when you said things were moving fast, I —"

"No. We haven't... He's not ready." The gingerbread roof crumbled between Courtney's fingertips, larger pieces colliding with her disastrous shack. A panel sloped away, excess frosting sloughing off. The three remaining walls caved in.

"But you are?" Olivia cocked her head. Courtney nodded, scrambling to repair her fallen house. A thoughtful finger to her lips, Olivia muttered something to herself before providing a sympathetic smile. "We'll get to that in a minute, but when you say vulnerable, then?"

Crimson heat consumed Courtney's features as she shoved her lopsided abomination aside. _Just get it over with._

"Remember that body link thing I told you about?" With her disaster cleared, Courtney slumped onto the exposed surface to conceal her face. "I may have Glimpsed into a very arousing moment that left me painfully horny when I returned. Shayne, he tried to help, but I saw the hesitation in his eyes. I didn't want either of us to regret it, so I stopped him. He asked to stay, while I... I should've said no. Clearly, why else would he avoid me?"

"So he watched you get yourself off? I'm not gonna lie, that's kinda hot."

"Olivia!" Courtney elbowed Olivia in jest.

"What? It's true! So, what happened next?"

"After I... Well, you know." — Courtney twirled her finger in the air. — "I was too drained to move. He stepped up. He took care of me. Hell, he even tried his hardest to lie to Ian for me the next day." Courtney straightened up, extending her arms above her before slouching in her chair. The edge jabbed her neck as her head tilted back to study the ceiling.

"Then he just slipped away again, back to his fucking mind palace." Courtney refrained from speaking with her hands in fear of knocking Olivia's masterpiece over. Instead, she regrouped herself, arms sprawling across the table. Her hand sought the stray candies cluttering it. Procuring a gumdrop, Courtney stretched it until a blob of stickiness cemented her fingertips. She flicked it onto her rejected heap of gingerbread. "He doesn't mean to. He's going through a lot. More than me. I know that, but I —"

"Want to know where you stand?" Olivia fastened a gumdrop to the chimney. It clashed with the Swedish fish shingling the roof.

"I guess? It's been only a few days, but we haven't even spoken about it since that night." — _We haven't even spoken since Ian, really._ — "I wouldn't be fretting so much, but..." Courtney plucked a leftover fish and hurled it into her mouth. It clung to her teeth, adding another layer of anxiety to her treacherous tower of dread. Her chair screeched against the floor as she jumped to her feet.

She started pacing.

"Fuck, he's bee so clingy since everything started, for him to suddenly demand alone time?" Flapping the stress from her hands, she glanced at Olivia now perched on the corner of her chair. "Something's wrong, like really wrong, and I can't help. I can't do anything but buy him a stupid fucking video game and feel sorry for myself."

"Breathe." Olivia set her finished work of art aside, its candy adorned architecture far superior to Courtney's abandoned failure. "Forget about Shayne for a moment. What are you feeling?"

"Like I got thrown into the deep end, and suddenly I've forgotten how to swim?" Lungs inflating, Courtney wandered back to her seat, fingers pinching the top of the chair. It teetered on its hind legs as she fidgeted with it. "I just want something solid to keep me afloat. I need to know that I'm more than just a pacifier for his Alternate's tantrums. That he wants me for me. It's trivial, but with this lack of communication, I just feel—"

"Unwanted? Like you did something wrong?" Olivia soothed Courney's nervous hands with a reassuring touch that stopped the chair's wobbling. "It's not stupid at all. Sure, you understand his reasoning, but it doesn't make his rejection easier to swallow."

"I just don't know what to do. How can I ask for more when he can hardly handle himself?" The tension knotting her muscles untangled with an audible exhale as Courtney plopped into her seat. "He told me everything I wanted, everything I needed to hear, yet a few days of silence has me second-guessing myself."

"Okay, bear with me, but how did you feel when he watched you?" Propping her elbows on the table, Olivia braced her chin on her laced fingers.

"At first, I guess I felt wanted? His eyes were brimming with this raw emotion. Love, concern, desire. All his and only his. I felt him through his jeans, just knowing I possessed that effect on him." A slight giddiness tweaked her lips in a frail smirk as she pressed her thighs together. Examining the memory with a microscopic lense eliminated that window of glee, her reprieve vanishing with a profound sigh.

"But then his eyes..." Courtney's fingertips dodged the frosting splattering the plastic tabletop as they sketched invisible spheres. "Here I was, naked in his arms, and he wouldn't even sneak a peek. Probably scared that his Alternate would pop in and see, but I just... God, I must sound crazy to you."

"Not at all," Olivia said, tossing her head for emphasis. "Sure, an erection is nice, but a biological reaction is just that, biological. Him looking at you would have affirmed his interest." Olivia's smile encouraged Courtney, though the quizzical expression that soon replaced it troubled her. "Would you do it again? Would he do it again?"

Heart pounding, Courtney nibbled her lower lip. _Would I?_ Observing Olivia cleaning up their mess, antsy fingers ached to aid, but she stopped herself to focus on the inquiry at hand. Despite the bitter aftertaste she had now, she had enjoyed his engagement at the time. And the confidence he displayed even if misguided...

"I think so?" Courtney chirped. "When he assured me that he chose to stay, that he wanted to watch since before it became a choice... It was the first time in forever that he seemed sure of himself."

Inspecting Olivia's reaction, Courtney's stomach nosedived. Brown irises darted back and forth as Olivia dumped the unused gingerbread and broken waste into the trash. Though her inaudible mumbling worried Courtney the most.

"You're planning something, aren't you?" Courtney asked, an exhausted groan escaping her.

"C'mon, we need to go back to the mall," Olivia announced, snatching her purse and waving towards her front door.

"I still don't know how this will help," Courtney said as she loitered at the entrance of Victoria's Secret. Pink trim bordered the open entryway, overfilled windows bookending it. The glossy, blown-up posters of underwear-clad models they contained winked at Courtney. She shivered. "I mean, whenever I try advancing things physically he tends to run. Not to mention the unsolved dilemma of him lying."

Glancing over at Olivia standing next to her, her gaze drifted to the passing shoppers. Staring at her. Judging her. _Stop imagining things, you dumb-dumb._ Shelving her paranoia, Courtney cracked her neck.

"Watching you was the one thing he didn't run away from," Olivia reminded her, grabbing Courtney's hand. "Didn't you say it was the first time he didn't doubt himself?"

"Yes, but it still feels a bit selfish." Courtney scrunched her nose.

"Wanting to be wanted isn't selfish, plus he is getting a striptease out of it." Olivia beamed at her, shoulders lifting to her ears.

"And his secret?"

"Once he sees you, he won't be capable of keeping his mouth shut. You'll have him wrapped around your finger, you'll see." Olivia wiggled her pointer for emphasis before squeezing Courtney's hand. "Follow me!"

Courtney struggled to stay upright as Olivia hauled her into the ocean of pink.

Sales bins overflowed with assorted underwear and bras, each stand adorned with a placard denoting a different promotion. Sportswear, sweatshirts, and sweatpants hung on the walls. Weaving through the piles of indistinguishable lingerie, they avoided the scattered shoppers and employees as Olivia towed her towards the back. Their journey ended once they reached a more organized section aimed at adults.

Matching lingerie collections coated one wall, while an extensive arrangement of bras curtained the other. Employees defended the corners as they waited to assist any conflicted customers who requested their aid. In the far back, a chain of patrons queued at the registers, shelves of merchandise walling them in.

"How am I even supposed to know what he'll like?" Courtney huffed, the numerous styles, sizes, and colors immobilizing her. "Plus, what if this just freaks him out more, or something happens and—"

"Trust me, if Sam's anything to go by, Shayne will love whatever you choose. Plus, you don't have to show it to him if you don't want to. You'll even get a new addition to your wardrobe. It's win-win, right?"

"Then why does it feel like I'm setting myself up for failure?" Courtney asked as she inspected a sheer babydoll top. Translucent pink draped across her palm, the fabric slipping between her fingers. Eying the pricetag, she fumbled to reshelve it. "I mean, either I chicken out and stay in limbo, or I work up the courage to go through with it and then what?"

"You'll get your answer," Olivia said as she shuffled through a rack of bras. "Let his actions tell you where you stand. If he shows interest, then you know he wants you. If he doesn't, well, that won't happen"

"How can you be so sure?" Exploring the next collection of undergarments, Courtney leafed through an array of silky robes better suited for sleeping.

"Uhm, he could hardly look away before you two started dating. I highly doubt that will be a problem."

"That was before his Alternate put the fear of God into him," Courtney warned her as she hoisted her hand to eye-level. Crotch-less panties drooped over her finger, her face contorting in a mixture of confusion and disgust. _Why are we in this section again? Wouldn't a simple sports bra be fine?_

"Here, try this one." Olivia handed her a matching bra and boy-cut panties. Fire-red. Her favorite color. Its thin lace was carved into intricate scallops at the seams. Upon Courtney gesturing her approval, Olivia ushered her towards the dressing rooms. Locating a vacant one, she shoved Courtney inside. "And don't worry, I have a plan for this Alternate of his," Olivia said before closing the door.

Tugging her shirt off, Courtney unclasped her basic T-shirt bra with expertise and exchanged it for the scarlet lace. It contrasted with her pale skin, though a surplus of breast spilled from the small cups. Her forearm prevented her from falling out as she folded over to investigate the size tag on the hanger.

"I think you got a size too small..."

"One sec." Hearing Olivia scurry off, Courtney removed the offending article and affixed it to its hanger.

"This should be the size bigger." A blur of red launched over the door, hitting Courtney on the head.

"Watch it!" Courtney laughed, detangling the hanger from her hair. Slipping the brassiere on, the lace painted her curves as if designed for her. "You said you had a plan for his Alternate?"

"Alternate Shayne can't do anything if he's tied up, can he?"


	28. Courtney

Oversized snowflakes sculpted out of white, neon-lights furnished the archway to the LA Zoo, casting the employee-guarded turnstiles below in an ethereal glow. An almost empty parking lot slept behind the illuminated facility, a perk of visiting this seasonal event on Christmas Eve. No lines. No hoards of people. Just Courtney, Shayne, and a handful of guests. Regardless, as they waited for the overworked woman to scan their tickets, Courtney failed to detect another soul.

Two beeps ushering them inside, Courtney skipped into a wonderland of lights. The centerpiece of the front plaza captivated her, a collection of rainbow animals girdling a tree of lights. Its wiry limbs curled over themselves to resemble an upside-down octopus. With Shayne barreling straight past it, however, Courtney's enjoyment dissipated to frustrated concern.

Red lace chaffing her thighs, she jogged up a ramp and into a small forest where multi-colored dandelions illuminated the path. Their larger than life appearance portrayed a fairytale aesthetic, though the metal guard rail bordering the ramp corrupted it. Underneath the raised pathway, blue neon traced the narrow stream cleaving into the mossy terrain below.

Spotting Shayne up ahead, her stomach clenched. Vacant eyes gazed out at the tree-obstructed horizon as white knuckles gripped the handrail. His breath fogged the air, stilted bursts of smoke that evaporated within seconds. Despite standing just a few feet away, miles separated them. Neglecting the ominous chill biting her skin, Courtney persevered towards Shayne.

"Everything okay?" She asked, their fingers grazing as she slid up beside him.

"Huh?" Shayne blinked, confusion masking wisps of dread.

"You kinda just bolted back there."

"I guess I got a little ahead of myself, that's all." Broad fingers ruffled disheveled dirty blonde, a despondent chuckle tumbling from his lips. Crossing his forearms on the metal bar, he folded over so that his head dangled parallel the undergrowth.

"I've been doing that a lot these days." Sights lifting to the sky, a smirk crested his lips. Though the lack of wrinkles creasing his eyes exposed its insincerity.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Courtney asked, teeth worrying her bottom lip. His Adam's apple bobbing worsened it.

"Of course." Entwining their fingers, he squeezed before moving her hand away. Together, they strolled towards the main path. Reaching the end of the ramp, an unlit animal enclosure called to her. Abandoning Shayne's hand, she dashed forwards to acquire a closer look. _He'll follow, right?_

Massive boulders protruded from an above-ground lake, its depths visible through a windowed fence. An attached plaque denoted sea lions as its inhabitants. Despite the cloak of darkness veiling the artificial environment, she discerned their silhouettes lounging atop the rocks.

Eager to show Shayne, disappointment smothered her smile upon finding empty space behind her. Frantic, she searched her surroundings. Blinding lights stretched and shrank with her narrowing eyes as they bounced from one area to the next.

Trepidation constricted her stomach.

Elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, Shayne was perched on a bench in the distance. _Nothing's wrong, my ass._ Acidity eroded the worry smearing her gut, frustration slathering it with viscous sludge. She neglected it, for now, willing her concern to take center stage as she trudged over.

"Thinking about something?" She kicked his foot.

"You ready?" Eyes dodging her, Shayne grunted and stood up. Without waiting for an answer, he stormed off down the path. Paralyzed with disbelief, Courtney just stared as his figure disappeared into the distance.

Despite melancholia inundating the drive over, naive hope fooled her into expecting its eradication. For his harsh edges to persist under the radiant happiness illuminating the facility... _Can't you at least try?_ _This was your idea, after all._ Stomping, a frustrated sigh propelled her forwards.

Blurred lights streaked her peripheral vision as Courtney sprinted down the walkway. Strings of neon green mistletoe connected two large gift shops posted at either side of the pavement. Closed and locked up. Spotting Shayne meandering around one of the windows, she disposed of her dismay with a heavy exhale and bounded to his side.

Thought eluded her, fingers curving around muscle as she attached herself to his bicep.

"Watch it." Shayne jerked away. Fearful blues darted between her and the desolate road. "Someone might see," he whispered, pointed eyebrows marrying his harsh tone.

"No one's fucking looking. Hell, no one's even here, Shayne." She gestured to the vacant space environing them. Softened features provided a margin of hope that compelled her to reach for him. Guilt plastering his appearance, he avoided her touch. _Screw this._ Shoving her hands into her armpits, she marched off.

Heavy footsteps trailed her brisk pace. _At least you're following._ She rolled her eyes. Disregarding the rows of artificial roses filling a garden to her left, she toyed with the straps of her purse. She could hear the flimsy plastic cuffs rattling inside it — the second part of Olivia's plan. _So much for that._

"Stop running." Large fingers cutting into her wrist forced her to halt.

"Why should I, Shayne? You've been running from me since we got here." Courtney ripped her arm free. "What the fuck is going on with you? You give me the silent treatment for nearly two days, and now you're avoiding me at what I thought was supposed to be a romantic evening? I know you have a lot on your shoulders, but can you maybe try to pretend that you're interested in me?"

"Courtney..." His disheartened resonance summoned tears to accumulate in her throat, salty droplets securing their hooks in preparation for their ascent. Swallowing them reinforced her conviction, though a quiver betrayed her leveled lips. Calloused palms seizing both of her hands towed Courtney to an alcove nestled behind a blackened exhibit. Wrapping her arms around his neck, his coiled her waist.

Heat radiated into her, a soft gasp toppling from her lips as he jerked her against him. Passion permeated crystal blue eyes that scorched into hers.

"Shayne." Fingertips tickled the hairs coating the nape of his neck. A flash of pained sorrow tweaked his feature, but she overlooked it in favor of holding onto the hope his display of affection evoked.

"This better?" He claimed her lips. Emotion barreled into her, an unsettling emulsion of love and anguish. Feeling him pull away, she tunneled her fingers through his hair and deepened the kiss. It lasted longer than it should, the prospect of it ending promising a finite conclusion.

Heartbreak.

"You're hiding something." Her thumb stroked his temples, polishing the soft lines carved into his flesh. Eyelids enclosed blue as he leaned into her touch. Stealing a hasty kiss, she prayed to withhold the inevitable.

"It can wait." Shayne's hand capped hers, sorrow-drowned eyes fastening to her emeralds. Their foreheads touched. "I want to savor what's left of the night."

"You will tell me, though, right? You promise?" Fingers twisted the collar of his shirt, nails scraping his neck.

"I promise." A brittle smile followed his words, the arm around her waist retreating to allow his hand to find purchase on her hip. His thumb slipping under her shirt, its calloused pad burned figure-eights into her skin.

"Let's start over, hmm? We haven't even scratched the surface of this place."

"Only if you promise not to run away again." She lured him in for another kiss. "And maybe, if you behave, I'll let you have the second part of your gift, after all."

"C'mon, the tunnel closes soon." Despite his words, Shayne's grasp tightened, head descending to her shoulder. He breathed her in with an affectionate open-mouthed kiss on her neck. Retracting, melancholy marred his features as he gestured to the pathway.

Shayne towed her through dazzling displays of lights, some strung up in the shape of animals, while others formed abstract squiggles disguised as art. Every now and then, they paused to collect photos in front of the more intricate installations, and a sense of normalcy befell them.

Hitting a fork in the road, signs designated the infamous Twinkle Tunnel to their right. Shayne hustled her past them, though she still managed to read the tunnel's actual closing time.

They had well over an hour. _Why are you lying?_ Courtney eyed Shayne as they approached a serpentine tunnel. Bright lights covered its wire frame. Awe propelled her forwards, her hand disengaging from Shayne's as she twirled beneath the incandescent bulbs. Skipping back to Shayne, she hauled him into the blazing lights.

Head on his shoulder, she tangled their fingers as they dawdled under the curtain of white. Turning a corner, it morphed into a rainbow that ushered them down the subsequent stretch of the tunnel.

"You can't hide from me forever." Angling to him, Courtney skimmed her fingers down his shoulders to doodle shapes into his chest. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"Forget about it." He stilled her ministrations. "Just forget I said anything. It won't matter after tonight anyway." His words immobilized her; the soles of her shoes glued to the dirt roadway as he freed himself from her hold and stormed out of sight. _After tonight?_ Tears clogging her throat, she sprinted after him.

"What do you mean that it won't matter after tonight?" Courtney shouted, palms slamming into his pecs. Backing Shayne into a shadowy recess, she manhandled him onto a concrete bench.

"I shouldn't have said anything." He ducked from her, fingers curling over the edge of the seat.

"Or maybe you haven't said enough." Lithe digits knotted her hair, stress tearing at her scalp. "You know, I had this whole fucking plan for you. I even..." She tugged on the neckband of her shirt, baring red straps denting her shoulder.

Sturdy hands wrenched her wrist away before she could unveil more.

"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, I wouldn't do that if I were you." Gravel rasped her ears. Searching his eyes, darkness scorched his irises. Yanking her hand free, she watched Shayne's tight and restrained posture relax into a sprawled mess of limbs. Pressed thighs spread. Crossed arms sprawled across the top of the bench. Restless fingers tapped.

"Great, just great." Courtney grated her teeth, emeralds rolling as blue oceans ascended her form. Though belonging to Alternate Shayne, heat pooled in her stomach at his undivided attention. _Stop it. You know better._ "Hasn't this night been bad enough?"

Alternate Shayne rose, cracking his neck with a sly grin. Determined to stand her ground, Courtney froze, not even blinking as he approached. Closing the distance until his breath warmed her skin, rough pads hovered over her hips. Heat singed a path up her trembling form, fingertips brushing her upper arm. Fingering her bra strap, he cocked his head.

"Lace." He rubbed the fabric between his thumb and pointer finger. "She only wears lace when she's up to no good." Snapping the strap on her shoulder, he stroked up her neck to tilt her chin to him. "You want something, don't you?" A canine snagged his lower lip.

"I do not. That's just my tank-top strap, Dipshit," Courtney lied, confidence sharpening her glare. Alternate Shayne chuckled, hoisting the hem of her shirt to reveal the scalloped scarlet painting her breasts. She swatted his hand away.

"You're a better liar than him; I'll give you that." Eyebrows raising, an amused smirk corrupted Shayne's features.

"If that's all, would you mind giving me my boyfriend back?" Courtney strived to slip away, but muscle barricaded her route.

"I'm doing you a favor, Dollface, or do you really think this little plan of yours will work?" Cupping her face, his thumb swiped her lower lip. The temptation to bite until she tasted blood coursed through her veins. _It's still Shayne's body._ The reminder quelled her boiling blood to a precarious simmer. Jaw clenched, nails slicing her palm. Courtney exhaled through her nose and plowed passed him, stomping away towards the exit.

His heavy footfalls smacked the tar. Alternate Shayne hot on her tracks. Sensing his presence beside her, she quickened her pace. Favor? Taking over Shayne was doing her a favor? Through the corner of her eye, she spied him just a foot away. Swiveling on her heel, she snatched his shirt with both hands.

"You, doing me a favor?" Nails cleaving flesh through cotton, she utilized her entire body to constrain him against the concrete wall lining the walkway. Careful to leave a decent space between them, she speared her nails into him until he winced with pain. "Tell me why an insolent prick like you would do me a favor."

"You look like her, think like her," — he motioned to her hands — "And if it wasn't for that sassy independence of yours, well." He pressed his pointer finger to his lips, head canting to the side. "I wonder..." Darkened blues plunged with his hand, fingers toying with the waistband of her leggings. He threatened to peep inside, stretching the elastic enough for her heart to skip a beat.

"Like it or not, I'm not your Fiancé." She slapped his fist away. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be off, I don't know, torturing her instead of ruining this already horrendous date?"

"She's..." Somberness slicked the atmosphere, his lips twitching as his lungs inflated. Gaze lingering on the floor, he tucked his thumbs into his front pockets. A limited window behind his hardened exterior that weighed her stomach. Stepping back, she kneaded her thighs to relieve the uncertainty his vulnerability provoked. "You shouldn't concern yourself with me, Love."

A cruel quip tipped her tongue, but she refrained from punishing this rare display of emotion, of humanity. Instead, ribbons of color morphed in her peripheral as she started towards the exit once more. Easy and slow, with Alternate Shayne tarrying a couple feet behind.

"I still don't see how taking over my boyfriend's body is doing me a favor." The joyful notes of carousel music filtered through the air. Through a thicket of palm trees, Courtney identified the merry-go-round perched atop a nearby hill. An assortment of exotic animals poked through the slits between the trees as it revolved.

His hand cradling the small of her back escorted her towards it, feet tripping over themselves at the abrupt change in momentum. Somewhere between her retort and spotting the carousel, her legs had forgotten how to move.

"I hate to break it to you, Doll, but that boy of yours ain't exactly in the best headspace for this little scheme you've got cooking."

"That wouldn't happen to have something to do with you, now would it?" Squirming free, she quickened her pace to regain the lead.

"Who says he isn't just overreacting?" Long strides carried Alternate Shayne ahead until he pivoted on his heel to face her as he walked. Not bothering to glance behind, intimidating confidence exuded from his burnt blues now fastened on her. "You know, I could just let you and that silly plan of yours crash and burn." He snapped as if fire would ignite at the tips of his fingers.

She shivered, both at his brash nature and at the earlier events. That emotionally charged kissed. That inevitable dread he had funneled into her. That sense of finality when he fumbled with his words... _It won't matter after tonight._ She clamped her lips between her teeth. _No, you were just imagining it._

"You don't know that. He might—" Her eyes sank, her subconscious prompting her hands to fondle herself. Courtney envisioned her scheme succeeding. He would be at her mercy, lying on his bed, lust permeating his gaze as she bared herself to him. A pensive smile warmed her face.

"Spill the beans when he sees those perky breasts of yours?" Alternate Shayne clucked his tongue, jolting her back to reality. In a split second, he captured her wrists and yanked her against him. An involuntary gasp divided her lips as his palms roamed her sides, fingertips seeking erogenous zones that Courtney never knew she had. "Though seeing how you can't keep your hands to yourself, maybe you want something more than just words, hmm?"

"I don't blame you," he said, massaging her waist. Fingerpads threatened to dip lower, nails skimming the edges of her bottom. Every atom within her screamed to bolt, but something about his touch cemented her in place. "With that little prude of yours, I'm sure you've got a lot of pent up need, am I right?" His lips scraped her ear, her skin vibrating under his hot breath. "Oh, and don't worry, I have her permission. All you have to do is ask."

"In your dreams." With that, ice chilled her skin as Alternate Shayne released her.

"Just say the word." He lifted his hands in surrender before pocketing his thumbs once more. Kicking at the pebbles littering the pavement, he continued towards the merry-go-round.

"God, if all you can think about is sex, why don't you just return to that nymph of yours and give my broken boy back to me?"

"What, so he can break up with you? No can do. You're not the only one I'm saving here."

"B-break up with me?" His words knocked the air from her lungs, knees buckling as she staggered backwards. Alternate Shayne stopped her from collapsing. Drawing her in, his hand on her back stabilized her. "Why would he? What did I do?"

"Nothing, Love. You did nothing wrong." Concern flashed across his eclipsed blues as Alternate Shayne pinned a stray hair behind her ear. His caress loitered near her temples. It quieted the agony eroding her composure in an instant. "That insecure infant thinks he's protecting you, imagine that. Fucking coward. It's a fear reaction. That's it. A fear reaction that I need to remedy before—"

"Before you no longer have access to another set of tits?" Though his initial concern disarmed her defenses, the return of his crude and insulting nature reinforced her armor.

"You'll have to get used to me eventually. But for now, I'll accept a thank you for rescuing your relationship, yeah?"

Crisp air frosted her form as she evaded him, the immediate lack of comfort evoking tears to coagulate in her gullet. Gagging on air, she scavenged for a spot to sit before a full-blown meltdown eviscerated her.

Warmth searing her shoulder blades directed her to the exit, navigating the few inquisitive employees before they located Shayne's car. The only one remaining. The entire lot empty. She hunkered down on one of the benches dotting the curb beside it, nails irritating her stooped head.

"Easy. Nothing's ever easy, yet he just shuts down without even trying." Courtney gulped the lump of tears asphyxiating her. Raking her claws down her face, a solemn chuckle departed her. "I thought I could support him. Break through those stupid walls of his. Foolish, I know, but I was making progress. At least, I thought I was. Fuck, less than a month together, and he's giving up on us already, isn't he? He's giving up on me..."

Saliva spluttered onto her knees as a ragged cry escaped. Salty streams cascaded down her cheeks, trickling into her gaping mouth. The ache for Shayne's embrace — any embrace — torched her spiraled pads as they dug into his jean. Blonde locks bunched against his abdomen.

His presence vanishing spiked her heart for a brief moment before he plopped down at her side, his arm sheltering her. Another cry wracking her body, Courtney welcomed his embrace. Cheek flush with his shoulder, her blonde tresses supported his chin.

"This is exactly what I didn't want to happen," Alternate Shayne mumbled. "Idiot thought a public break-up would avert a meltdown." The point of his jaw drilled into her skull as he shook his head, an irritation he relieved with a platonic kiss to her hair.

"I tried to warn him. You, well, my Courtney..." he trailed off with a breathy laugh. "I've been struggling to tell you two apart, and he called me out on it. Stated that I was just projecting. I tried stopping him. Fuck, I even pleaded with him. ME. I pleaded."

"Why?" Courtney choked out. "You love tormenting him. For fuck's sake, this is your fault. You said so yourself."

"Jeesh, rub it in why don't you." Fingers dancing across her temples soothed, tips discovering pressure points with startling ease. An immediate comfort flooded her form, a bizarre tingling silencing her tears. Unnerving. _It's like he knows my body better than me_. "Sometimes I push too far for my own good, okay?" His voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. "And I don't like to see you hurt."

"You really do have trouble telling us apart, don't you?" She cleaned the tears from her eyes. "You know I'm nothing like her, right?"

"Oh, but you are." He tousled her hair with a smirk. "In so many ways. Plus, it's not easy straddling worlds. Have you ever tried being in two heads at once? I didn't think so. He, at least, has the privilege of fragmenting only when he Glimpses."

"I'm sor—"

"Skip it, Darling. I'm not your problem to worry about. Not yet, at least." With a meek smile, he stood up and straightened his arms over his head before extending a helping hand. She accepted, and he hoisted her to her feet.

Stumbling forwards, she crashed cheek first into his chest. Courtney sighed, hearing his rapid heartbeat. A reminder that Shayne still remained somewhere deep inside.

"He can hear me, right?" She squeaked, withdrawing to examine blue orbs. Darkness still overrode them, no sign of the light crystal blue that signified her Shayne.

"Yes, though over that stubborn onion's shouting, I'm not so certain he'll actually listen."

"You idiot, you better be listening in there," she said, palms sandwiching his face and emeralds securing to his sapphires. "Whatever it is, we'll pull through it. I won't let you give up on us, you hear me?"

Time ticked forward, yet nothing happened.

"Together, we're in this together. Didn't you tell me that?" A few seconds of silence strangled her before a genuine smile brightened Alternate Shayne's face, and the darkness distorting Shayne's eyes receded.

Bright blue stared at her.

"And what if I'm no longer me?" Shayne's voice trembled, forehead diving to her shoulder. Wandering hands branded everywhere Alternate Shayne had touched. Harsh, rough, bruising. It warned Courtney that he witnessed everything while setting her skin ablaze.

"What if I disappear?" he mumbled into her neck, guiding her to his car. He pinned her against it. _What do you mean 'disappear'?_

"I'd find you." His teeth speared her neck as he murmured 'mine' between breaths. She carded her digits into his hair, her tears swelling once more. "Wherever you go, I'll find you, but I can't, not if you don't let me."


	29. Shayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Smut

"It's not fair," Shayne cried into Courtney's neck. Chaos scrambled his brain, a juxtaposition of emotions fragmenting his actions and thoughts. The drive to erase Alternate Shayne's mark propelled palms to scorch her waist, while the agony pressing him to let her go cascaded down his face. Forcing a deep breath, he sorted through his jumbled thoughts. "It's not fair to let you fall for me when I can't always be there to catch you. When I know that I won't be."

"And breaking-up with me is?" Courtney choked out. Fingers tangled in short blonde locks urged him closer, and he obliged, open-mouthed kisses clearing their mixed tears from her throat. He clung to her, and she to him until nothing but their spluttered sobs soiled the icy wind around them. Lights dimmed, and shadows consumed. Inner turmoil evacuated the duo and dispersed into the night.

Darkened clouds loomed above, their swirling grey descending at a snail's pace. Condensation weighed their feather-light pillows, unraveling the molecular bonds sealing their invisible gates. As entropy aligned, droplets plummetted to the ground. One splashed the nape of Shayne's neck, splintered beads trickling under the collar of his green T-shirt. Another soon joined it, and another, and then another until salt and fresh water mingled, and shivers clattered teeth. Reluctance saw skin lingering on skin as they separated.

Without her heat to calm his nerves, tremors tortured him as he retrieved his keys from his back pocket. Their jingling disturbed the stark quietness that thickened the night. Shayne sighed. _An accident is the last thing we need._ With a rueful glance, Shayne handed them to Courtney, and she retreated to the car.

**_Hey Fuck Face, you have the night to fix this. But I swear, come tomorrow, if I find out you went through with this shitty ass coward's plan of yours... Well, I'll let your imagination fill in the blanks. Got it?_**

Drenched hair stuck to his forehead, and damp cotton displayed every ridge carved into his torso. The sprinkling now a full-blown downpour. He embraced it. Rain splattering his tilted face cleansed the salt caking his flesh, and the red tainting his whites receded.

"I'm sorry."  
  
  
  
  
  


"I can't keep doing this, Shayne." Courtney white-knuckled the steering wheel, wavering lips and unstable swallows escaping her fractured mask. _My fault_. It anchored his stomach to his seat, hollowing his chest and shredding his tattered resolve. Still, he neglected her, the lights streaking the highway shining off his tear-blurred eyes. 

Two days' worth of panic infected his blood, gushing through him with each heartbeat. A pulsating reminder of the fate Alternate Shayne promised to him. Disappearing. He was disappearing. Someday soon. The pelting of catastrophes he had suffered all focalizing into one conclusion. _You'll leave me once you process this, so let me be the bad guy here._

"And sorry isn't good enough. I need—" A sharp inhale cut her words. "I need reassurance. Something more than just an empty promise that you won't run away again. That your Alternate saving the day won't become a habit." The reminder tore through him, leaving the resurgence of Alternate Shayne's grubby paws contaminating in its wake. _How could you let him touch you like that?_ The sour taste. The bitterness. The hatred and disgust. It swarmed him, pricking his fingertips and hardening his shell.

"You're siding with him now?" Shayne asked through clenched teeth. Through the corner of his eye, he discerned her brow sharpening and nails to drilling into the steering wheel.

"Do you really expect me to root for my own break-up?" The tension mangling his gut dissipated upon hearing her rationale.

"I'm dumb, okay? And I'm pretty sure tonight shows that. I'm dumb and cowardice, and fuck, you deserve better." Spiraled-pads pursued the trails of water splattering the passenger-side window. "Someone who can actually give you what you need. Someone who can be there for you. I'm not that. Not anymore."

"Don't say that." Stifled tears chased her words. "You haven't even given us a proper try."

"What's the point when I might not be here tomorrow?" Resigned, diminutive, and meek, his bowed head disguised the patheticness defacing him. _It's for the best._

"I'm not worth it?" The feeble quiver to her voice invited his gaze to her. Red reflected off the streams slicking her cheeks. She wiped them away with her knuckles. The knot tormenting his insides looped over itself, adding another layer of stress to the already two-day-old mess — pent up anguish ready to explode. Its addition crushed his heart, insides inverting. _I can't do this._

"That's not. I didn't think..." Shayne swallowed, clasped hands tucked between his legs. He shriveled into himself. Eyelashes veiled uncertainty as insecurity whittled away at his voice. "You'd still stay with me, even knowing?"

"You're an idiot." A smile broke through her tears, quelling the turmoil careening around his stomach walls. It disrupted his attention long enough for Shayne to lose himself in her brightness. Shayne gasped, his body stiffening as lithe fingers flattened against his thigh. Tiny tips landing a little too high grazed him. Thick denim failed to temper the flames radiating from her touch.

"How many times do I have to say it? We're in this together." Green replaced the red light up ahead; her heat vanished, though her faint simper remained.

"We can add deaf to the list if you like." A soft chuckle split his lips as he soothed seared flesh. Willing his body to calm, he inhaled and snuck a peek at her face. She smirked, vulnerable and uncertain, but a smirk nonetheless. _You want more than just words, don't you?_ "Let me make it up to you then," he said, mimicking her previous actions. Kneading her thighs, thick fingers coasted in between to skim her core.

"Shayne," she breathed, capping his hand to stop him. Despite relenting, he kept his grip just above her knee. The comfort of her heat permeating his palm too alluring to relinquish. "Driving, I'm driving. If you want to make it up to me, how about you start with talking? Did you even think to consult me before you decided that leaving me was the answer?"

"Can this wait till we get home?" Sealing his lips, Shayne massaged her to encourage a less caustic response.

"Just tell me this, do you still want to break up with me?"

"I want whatever you want."  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Slamming the door behind him, Shayne loitered at the doorway. His gaze tracking skin as Courtney removed her jacket, she draped it on a barstool. Spinning to face him, puzzlement and annoyance contorted her brow. Her lips pursed and eyes ablaze. It sparked a restlessness to overwhelm his fingers and a blush to consume his cheeks. _How are you still so cute?_

"We're home, so talk." She ordered, strutting to the couch and flopping onto it. With a nod, Shayne shucked his coat off and tossed it on top of hers.

Rounding the sofa, his sights flitted between her impatient emeralds and the inadequate space open to him. The cushion compressed beneath him, the back tilting up as he perched on its edge. Despite intending to keep his distance, their fingers touched. Small and trivial, yet her heat ignited his nerve endings.

"I don't bite, you know."

"I thought I was doing what was best for you as dumb as that sounds. He warned me at Ian's, and from there, it ravaged me. Over and over, spinning through my brain, contaminating every thought. I wanted to tell you, but, fuck, I didn't want to put you through it. Watching my erasure is tough enough on you already. To have you—" Courtney opened her mouth as if to protest, but he raised a finger to quiet her. "It's in your eyes, Courtney.

"The pain. The anguish." Shayne saturated his lungs, head canting to search her green orbs. She fixated on him, sorrow worrying her bottom lip, though a spark of protest still filled her emeralds. "Every time he takes over. It's plain as day. You don't want to watch me disappear, and I don't want to force you to."

"Let me choose that." Warmth climbed his shoulder blades, her fingers releasing tension before linking above his sternum. Her scent enveloping him, Courtney kissed his neck. "Let me drown with you because breathing alone still suffocates."

"And when I disappear?"

"You can't hide from me." She scraped down his abs as arms lowered to encircle his gut. "I won't let you."

Muffled cries dampened where shoulder blades collided, and time trickled to a halt. The world quieted. Worries faded. Two souls acting as one, Shayne's soft weeping joined her body quaking sobs.

The pressure fraying his nerves evaporated, the last two days of terror vanquished. _You'll stay. You really want to stay._ Relief inundated blood vessels, numbness lightening capillaries as fear departed through veins. The fear of rejection that had dirtied him since lunch with Ian wiped clean.

Tears subsiding on both ends, Courtney nudged her way under his arm and latched to his side. Her ear to his heart. With the fear subdued, the frustration-laced jealousy birthed from witnessing Alternate Shayne flirt with Courtney investigated its new freedom. A soft thrumming that infiltrated skin and crashed his lips into hers. Bruising. Brutal. Reciprocated.

Flattened palms branded his torso, mapping the ridges of his abs. Nails teased through thin green cotton, emeralds fluttering up to him as she circled his nipple. Spherical salt adhered to long eyelashes, though the fire dancing on her irises only grew. Her blaze threatened to venture lower. Blood emptying his cranium and siphoning to his groin, Shayne seized her waist. It summoned a flash of Alternate Shayne's mittens defiling, tarnishing his arousal.

"I saw you." A heady velvet darkened Shayne's tone as clumsiness maneuvered Courtney onto his lap — her back to his chest. Fingers bored into her legging-clothed thighs, massaging knotted muscles. She arched against him. The soft pleasure leaving her mouth corroded his voice with a lustful heaviness.

"The way he touched you." A sharp yelp pierced the air as he strengthened his grip. Pain polished to a high-pitched moan — breathy and hitched. Crawling his hand over her curves, Shayne retracted the curtain of blonde shielding her neck.

"The way he had you around his finger." He nipped at the faded hickeys slathering her throat.

"A biological reaction, Shayne. It meant nothing." Shayne grunted, her core grazing his growing bulge as she twisted to straddle his hips. He fought the urge to buck against her, the need for friction increasing every second. Instead, he let her lead.

"He's not you." Foreheads touching, she captured his lips with hers. Short and honest, filled with passion despite its brevity. "I don't expect you to be perfect. I'd rather have your fumbling hands any day because it's you."

"I want to know your body that way." Aiming to imitate Alternate Shayne's actions, one hand found her waist, while the other danced fingers across her temples. The places that had soothed her in an instant. The ones he had bragged about knowing. Her lack of reaction disappointed.

"It's only been two weeks, Shayne. He's had years, remember?" Her smile saddened, palms cupping his cheeks. Emotions spilled between locked eyes. _How can you still look at me like that after everything I did?_ "But I promise, one day you will. When you're ready. When you don't have him gnawing at your nerves. When we have all the time in the world, we'll memorize each other."

"And what if that doesn't happen?" Shayne retracted her hand from his face, thumb soothing her palm. He traced the lines etched into its fleshy pillows.

"Then we'll have to make up for lost time when you return," Courtney said, sitting back so that her weight resided on his knees. She worked the anxiety smothering his shoulders. Citrus intoxicated his senses as he stooped to rest his head on her shoulder, but with the couple inches of height his lap provided, he wound up leaning on her shirt-covered breasts. Her small gasp sweetened the air as he peppered them with affection.

The cotton failed to obscure the lace from his lips, provoking Alternate Shayne's interaction to reemerge. _You'll have her soon. You'll have her, and there's nothing I can do._

"And in the meanwhile, you'll have your fun with him?" Harshness corroded his tone.

"Shayne." She dismounted his lap. Standing at his knees, she crossed her arms. Annoyance. Frustration. Her sharpened brow suffocated the atmosphere. It contorted to confusion, arms bouncing off her sides. "Do you really think?"

"You heard him. He's taking over, permanently. Or were his hands on you too distracting?" Shayne clamped his lips, but it was too late. His stream of consciousness had rushed his filter, tearing down the walls and spoiling the air before his rationale kicked in.

"At least he wants me." Courtney quipped back, a cruel tone sharpening it. Wide eyes hurried her hand to her mouth, legs buckling. She collapsed to her knees between his legs. "I'm sorry, I didn't. I." Courtney dropped her gaze to the floor. 

"No, I deserved that." Shayne folded over himself, arms dangling between knees, hands rubbing together as her words sank his stomach.

"No, you—"

"Courtney, I do." Shayne stared at her, hoping his honesty inundated irises backed him up. "I deserve worse, honestly. I've been a real piece of shit, but I'm ready to make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He sealed his lips, thoughts rummaging through dialogues and actions that would fulfill his promise. Instead, they focused on her cruelty.

_At least he wants me._

Harsh. Cruel. Painful. It jumpstarted Shayne into realizing his failure. To realize the root cause of the pain that marred her face long before Alternate Shayne even took over. _You think? How? Fuck, I've been horrible._

Dropping to his knees in front of her, he cupped her cheeks with both hands. Beaming at her — genuine and honest — he brimmed with devotion. Shayne directed her emeralds to his sapphires.

"Do you know I dream about you? Every single night. You, just you." He willed his affection to pour from his blue pools and into her. Lips caressed lips just to be sure. "Fuck, it's like I'm a teenage boy again. I've changed my sheets four times this week, thanks to you."

"Shayne Topp" —Courtney giggled— "Are you telling me I give you wet dreams?"

"I'm crazy about you, Courtney. Crazy in the best way. And I swear, you must be magic. The way you capture me completely like nobody else ever has." Grabbing her hand, he flattened her palm to his hammering heart. Rapid and fluttering, it pounded against his ribcage. "You feel that, right? Racing a mile a minute just for you. Because of you."

Flipping through their interactions, he scavenged for other ways to prove his devotion. Something more than just words. All findings converged on the heat sparking her eyes those few times she had felt him. Indirect and never mentioned, despite dismissing it, he had noticed it every time. _I always figured you'd hate it, but maybe?_ Eyeing his tented jeans, Shayne inhaled.

"This, you do this." He gulped, guiding her hand to his denim-clad erection. He hovered a few inches above it, eyes inviting her to touch. Sharp ivories bit into red lipstick as she nodded. Maintaining eye contact, Shayne ascertained a cacophony of emotion, love, lust, fear, and more. Two green caldrons overflowing. "It's okay."

Trembling fingers cupped him, and surprise divided her lips. Anticipating Courtney to jerk away, a hefty moan escaped him as tentative digits creased denim and curled around his length. Reality surpassed his dreams, and it took every ounce of strength not to come. _What am I twelve again?_

"I do this?" Emeralds fixed to him, she squeezed him, soft yet firm. Denim failed to hinder her heat. Shayne nodded. A mistake, a brilliant mistake that ignited her hand into action. His spring already tight, it coiled further under her novice ministrations. _Too soon, too fast._

"Do you want to know a secret?" He shuddered as she tightened her grip. Friction building. Every stroke taking him closer to the edge. He stumbled through his words, hips lifting to her. "Before we started dating before Defy Shut down. There were days where you'd wear those leggings. The ones with the sheer mesh. Then there was that fucking crop top that you cut way too short. It drove me mad."

"How mad?" She fumbled with his zipper, eager as if rewarding him for opening up. Pants undone, Courtney gripped him through his boxers. A guttural mewling heated air as she rolled circles over the tip. _Dead puppies and algebra._

"Mad enough that I may have had to jerk off in the downstairs bathroom a few times." The ball of pleasure pulsing with the promise to burst, Shayne wrenched her hand away. "And I don't want you to think I'm just saying this because you're touching me." He soothed the panic invading her features.

"Shayne," Courtney breathed, crawling forward enough to straddle his knees. Arms coiled around his neck. More than a few inches separated her center from his arousal, yet her heat still permeated him. She whined, scooting her hips forwards.

"Just because I've been a stupid coward doesn't mean I don't want you." Shayne seized her waist to prevent her from encroaching. The frown twisting her features prompted him to pacify her with a peck to the lips. An act intended to be short, but her tongue testing the waters lengthened it. Breaking away with a smirk, Shayne's thumbs painted shapes into her midriff. "I want you more than anything I've ever wanted before."

The amazement in her green depths hitched his breath. It released his grip enough for her to scoot closer until her breasts flattened against his pecs. Her hand slipping down his abdomen alerted him into action.

"Patience." Snatching it away, Shayne chuckled and hoisted her palm to his mouth. "Do you know I usually don't call someone my girlfriend until I don't know, the fiftieth date? But you." He stole a kiss from her, fingers lacing. "I've wanted to call you mine since our first kiss. Maybe before it even.

"I think, no, I know I'm falling for you, Courtney." Shayne released her hand in favor of tangling his fingers in her hair. "I'm falling hard and fast, and that terrifies me."

Her lips slammed into his with a force that almost toppled him, mounting his lap in the process. She raked her nails up his chest, coiling her arms around his neck to heave herself closer to him. The friction tugged his jeans down his legs, leaving him in nothing but his shirt and boxers as she rolled against him. Passion forgot the tiny quarters as their make-out session picked up pace, the couch protruding into his back, while the table behind her clattered.

"Courtney," Shayne gritted out, heat overwhelming him. Clutching her undulating hips, he strived to still the grinding before the inevitable arose too soon, but his hands had other ideas, slipping beneath her waistband to grab her bottom and press her harder against him. "We should mo—" An involuntary moan cut his words as her nails sank into him. She swallowed it, her tongue sneaking inside his mouth. Instinct bucked his hips up against her, earning a strangled cry from Courtney.

Hands sliding up her waist, he kneads her breast over her shirt. Thumbs sought her nipples through cotton. Not receiving the response he desired, he tugged on the offending T-Shirt.

"Off, need off," he grunted, nipping down her neck.

Sloping back, Courtney extracted herself, allowing Shayne to hoist himself onto the couch while she stripped between his spread legs. He refrained from stroking himself, built-up pressure already threatening to erupt. Instead, eyes trailed each inch of skin exposed as she undressed. His dick twitched, his heart skipping as red lace graced him. A foreign buzz paralleled the fire that the sight of lace had ignited. Or rather, what that lace concealed.

Dragging his gaze over her, Shayne moistened his lips. Taut nipples strained against scarlet threads, perky buds begging for attention. Crimson scallops lead into a blank canvas of sun-kissed valleys and fields of unmarred skin. His canine speared his lower lip. It begged for him.

Black leggings shifted his focus to her face, to the passion-soaked emeralds glued to him. It emboldened him. Lust clogging his inhibitions, fingers dented flesh as Shayne hauled her to him. No hesitation, teeth sinking into pristine skin branded her. The sharp moans piercing the air pushed him to continue, hands slipping into her pants to grab her bare ass and hold her in place.

Leaning back to admire his masterpiece, Courtney utilized his distraction to crawl onto his lap, forcing lace to his mouth. Friction grazed his glands, soft and brief, yet combined with the intoxicating lace and her potent musk, it brought him right to the edge. 

The guttural moan arching Courtney's neck drowned his name in pleasure. Breathy pants and shaky gasps. Pure, unfiltered passion and all she could say was his name. It went straight to his erection as she wedged a leg between his thighs. Hips rising, breath choppy, and her name caught on his breath, Shayne emptied into his boxers the second her knee brushed him.

"Did you just? " Courtney removed herself, a stifled giggle brightening the air.

"Yes?" Shayne shrugged, cheeks on fire and hand rushing to cover his mess. "The things you do to me, I swear." He wrenched her back into his lap for a passion-filled kiss.


	30. Shayne

Sunlight shone through slotted shades, spotlights dotting the interior of Shayne's room. Their narrow spheres shimmered across wrinkled sheets, sweeping over mountains of fabric cloaking Shayne's supine form. It highlighted the exhaustion defacing him as he sprawled out in a T-position, studying the ceiling.

Soft humming emanated from his bathroom, a lighthearted melody that rushing water obscured. Steam seeped from the ajar door, mere inches of wood concealing Courtney's showering form from him. Palming the empty void beside him, he relished in her lingering warmth.

"I didn't not know yet, just how I would get. Distance makes me fonder. Playing this game of matter and space, say it will bring us closer." For a brief moment, her melodic singing overpowered the faucet. Bright and bouncy, the happiness brightening her cadence doused him in relief. "I don't want anything to do with anyone but you. Only with you."

Exhaling solidified the smirk toying with his lips at the reminder of her choice to stay. _What did an idiot like me do to deserve an angel like you?_ The notion of Courtney abandoning him seemed so stupid, irrational, and naive, and yet he had still submitted to his fear. Allowing it to dominate him. Allowing it to steer him into relinquishing the best thing to ever happen since getting hired at Smosh. _I won't fall prey again, I promise._

Shayne rotated to submerge himself in her barren side, breathing in her scent-saturated pillow. Vanilla and citrus blended with a headier aroma to elicit her lace-clad form to the forefront of his mind. Just the memory reignited the flames that had scorched him.

Despite his premature release cutting their endeavors short, the subsequent cuddle session alleviated any embarrassment. That and her lack of judgment. Not that he expected it. Still, her acceptance reassured his unfounded worry of his fumbling hands scaring her into ones with more expertise.

Even the understandable disappointment he anticipated never transpired. No, his confession satisfied her. At least, it had appeared that way, what with her rejecting his hesitant offer to assist in other methods — no hint of frustration either. To be honest, his spiraling anxiety appreciated it. Processing what would have been a tremendous development of intimacy on top of his guaranteed disappearance, it threatened to destroy.

_Where will I even go?_

**_Not the smartest of the bunch, are we now?_**

Shayne flopped onto his back with a hefty exhale.

_Good morning to you too._

**_Maybe, if you'd just quiet your brain, I wouldn't be dragged to this hell hole so often?_**

_Sorry I'm not a vegetable? Whatever. Look, we fixed things, and I sure as hell don't need your hot-headed bullshit ruining Christmas._

Running water ceased, Courtney's melodic cadence gracing its absence. Shayne failed to identify the peppy tune as its reverberations infiltrated his bedroom. It beckoned him to abandon the refuge of his mattress and join her.

_And yet, you're still here._

**_Ever think of showing some gratitude? I did just save your relationship, or did you forget that too?_ **

_Thanks, are you happy now?_

**_Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose._ **

_Now, unless you care to tell me where I go when you steal my skin, scram. Go hide or something._

**_Well, since that daft little brain of yours hasn't figured it out yet, let me simplify it for you. Think of it like a transaction of souls. Mine in exchange for yours. We're switching, and it's just a matter of time, unfortunately._ **

_S-s-switch? We're switching? As in... I thought..._

**_That you'd be stuck in here with me? Hate to burst your bubble, but not happening. Sorry, Bud. I'll be here, and you'll—_ **

_Be trapped there._

Air evacuated his lungs, the room spinning out from underneath him. Blue flew to the bathroom, to Courtney. Silence escaped his parted lips, his voice forsaking him.

_Trapped and unable to stop you._

Static swarmed him, slicing through his eardrums to distort his vision. It slinked down his throat, weighing his form until his bed gave out, and he plummeted.

An endless fall into darkness.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  
  


Woven threads of soul diced through Shayne's essence as his journey neared its end. Fragments. Cubes of spirit blurring through obscurity. Torn strings looped their fronts, white fibers streaming behind in suspension. Ethereal jellyfish crash-landed into bone. A blob of contaminated soul that assimilated into one homogeneous unit.

With stolen strands incorporated, Shayne's soul carved a shallow alcove to append itself to.

A loud exhale breached his mouth as solid ground supported his feet, and plush cushion compressed beneath him. Sealed sights withheld his vision to sanction the reestablishment of his senses that familiar numbness blocked.

The shifting of bodies. The scuffling of feet. The intermittent cough. Sound rattled against his skull. It superseded the numbness he now prayed for, wavelengths amplified to the point of discomfort. His ears initializing.

**_Really, that sent you over?_**

Gravel rasped his canals, sharp-toothed words tearing at membrane until blood pooled, and pain flayed his eyelids.

Blinding lights and screaming voices obscured his surroundings, prompting him to search his immediate vicinity. A worn black-leather couch supported his seat, and a rectangular coffee-table stood a couple feet away. Six whiteboards and markers resided on its top. Glancing to his left and right, he noted two smaller sofas. Both empty.

With the haze clearing, he diverted his examination to the entire room. The explicit signifiers of a Smosh set greeted him. Smosh logos printed in various mediums adorned three false walls that left its contents exposed to an assortment of cameras and lights. Familiar faces scattered them, some manning the equipment while others lined the walls with conversation.

Through the chaos, he discerned Alternate Sunny wielding a clipboard as he conversed with Alternate Ian. Something serious considering the solemn expression that intensified both of their faces. Despite her back facing him, he spotted Alternate Olivia in the corner, elbows on a table as she scrolled through her phone.

_Nothing too abnormal._

A door creaking captured his attention, though the other occupants disregarded it. A few even cast a peculiar glance his way. _Weird..._ Dismissing it, he focused on the tardy arrival.

Blonde pigtails bobbed in the air as Alternate Courtney jumped over the invisible line dividing the hallway and the room. Shayne chuckled under his breath. _You have got to be kidding me._ He quirked an eyebrow at her attire. A hot pink dress more fitting for a five-year-old than a 24-year-old woman. Thick buttoned-on straps dented the white, long-sleeved shirt she wore underneath, its cuffs cloaking her hands. Her meek posture only emboldened her child-like aesthetic.

_Uh, what is she wearing?_

**_Cute, isn't it?_ **

_She looks like an elementary school kid._

**_It makes her feel safe, okay?_ **

Shy greens skirted around the cast and crew as she waddled towards him, gnawing on her thumbnail's cuticle through white cotton. She conveyed an air of innocence, clunky light-up sneakers illumining with each step.

"LINE UP! I want you all front and center." Alternate Sunny ordered before glaring at Shayne. "And I mean everyone, I don't need any back talking today, got it?" With a nod, Shayne renounced the couch's safety. Trudging over to the 'X' taped on the floor, he fixated on the now frozen Alternate Courtney, teetering on her toes midway between the door and the set.

_What is she waiting for?_

From opposite sides, Alternate Keith and Alternate Noah emerged from the shadows as Alternate Ian collected Alternate Olivia from her post. All heading their way, a childish laugh kickstarted Alternate Courtney. Rushing to his side, she attached herself to his bicep.

"T-today will be fun, right?" Hopping on her toes with an ear-to-ear grin, she nuzzled into him. "Easy vlogs, then home. OOOOOO, maybe me and Blinkie can have a tea party!" Unsure of how to respond, Shayne just nodded, his mouth ajar. She shrieked, jumping in place. _Is this what Courtney was talking bout?_

"Seems to be everyone," Alternate Sunny said, walking up and down the line of bodies. Alternate Keith and Alternate Noah stood at either end, both refusing to even look at one another. Their distinct desire for distance rang loud and clear.

_What's up with them? Are they not friends?_

**_The fuck if I know. One day, they're glued to the hip, and the next, they're spitting in each other's faces. You're better off flipping a coin._ **

"First off, I know these past few weeks have been tough. For some more than others." With a sad simper, Alternate Sunny eyed Alternate Courtney, who ducked behind Shayne. He sighed and continued pacing. "I don't know if there's something in the air or what, but it doesn't matter. We'll pull through this. We always do, right?"

Misaligned agreement answered.

"With that settled, this our last video of the year, so let's make it a good one. Maybe we can even get home early for once." Alternate Sunny retreated behind the camera. "Power couple, you know where to go. Oh, and try to keep your hands to yourself for once. The editors can only hide so much."

"W-w-we'll b-b-behave," Alternate Courtney stuttered, lacing her fingers with Shayne's. Swinging them between their hips, she beamed up at him.

"Keith and Noah, think you can pretend to like each other on the left couch? Ian and Olivia take the center, got it? Good, let's get this game going!"

**_Loveseat on the right._ **

_Thanks, but I got this. It's not my first time taking direction. This is my job, after all._

Soundproofing muffled heavy footfalls as everyone scurried to their respective couches. As Shayne neared the narrow couch on the right, its petite stature and singular cushion disconcerted him. Sitting down, he crushed himself against the armrest, but his bulky muscles bequeathed only a sliver of leather for Alternate Courtney.

_Uhm..._

Without warning, Alternate Courtney plopped onto his lap, wiggling until her back laid flush against him. Fear pricked his skin, but Alternate Shayne's lashing never came.

"A game! I'm good at games!" Tilting forward, she bounced her heels against his shins. Though too soft to hurt, her restlessness rippled through her body and into his. Breath jailed behind teeth, Shayne inspected her face to ascertain her intention.

Panic and apprehension speckled her otherwise glowing emeralds, though her sclera on the verge of overwhelming disquieted him. This, on top of their distant stare, implied a sense of unconsciousness to her jittery tendencies.

**_Don't let her know it's you._**

_You want me to pretend that I'm you? Isn't that a tiny bit deceitful?_

**_You heard him, things aren't exactly smooth sailing around here._ **

_And that has to do with this how?_

**_If she knows you're calling the shots, that stutter will never go away, and we'll be stuck filming forever._ **

_Right, so act like an asshole? Should be easy enough._

**_Loathe me all you like, but don't you dare take your hatred out on her._ **

_That's real funny coming from you._

**_It's not like I've ever wronged your girl, have I? Not intentionally, at least._ **

With Alternate Courtney's antsiness starting to generate friction, Shayne drilled his fingers into the cushion. Deep breaths aimed to quell the heat threatening to build down below. _She's not Courtney._ He repeated to himself, praying to starve off his biological reaction.

**_For fuck's sake, that's what you're worried about? Christ almighty, can't you see that she's anxious? And fuck, this is worse than before too. I mean usually she can sit still for longer than a minute. Maybe, she senses it, but—_**

_I get it, she's anxious. What am I supposed to do?_

**_FUCK! I hate this. I hate this. I hate this, but I need you to touch her. She needs skin contact. Something. Anything. JUST CALM HER._**

Trembling, Shayne dislodged his grip. Corduroy cords grazed his palm, hovering over her waist. White cotton clothing her arms and draping her fiddling digits limited his options to her legs. Air weighing his lungs, he cupped her knee. Within seconds, her restlessness ceased. Relaxation unwound the jittery blonde as she slumped against his chest. A deep exhale capped her hand on top of his.

_Is she usually this dependent on you?_

**_You have a problem with it?_ **

_No, no problem at all. It's just if we're switching, then—_

"AND ACTION!" Alternate Sunny interrupted Shayne's concern.

"So, in honor of our very own power couple getting engaged, we thought we'd play the Newlywed's game!" Alternate Ian exclaimed, clapping for emphasis.

"Yo, why it always gotta be about them?" Keith interjected, yelping as Alternate Noah elbowed his side. "What? I'm just saying what y'all are thinking, right?" Kneading his waist, he scooted away from Alternate Noah.

"That's all you, Bud," Alternate Olivia said, glaring at Alternate Keith.

"Anyways, I'm sure you know the rules, but I'll go over them just in case." Alternate Ian faked a smile. Exhaustion dug baggy trenches under his half-closed eyes, and a heavy five o'clock shadow darkened his face. Its unkempt hairs extended far beyond the now withered lines of its once manicured style.

"Sunny asks a question, and whoever has the whiteboard will have thirty seconds to write their response." —Ian picked up a whiteboard to show the camera.— "If their partner's answer matches what's on the board, that team wins a point. Let's start!"

Alternate Courtney folded over, trapping his hand as she grabbed a whiteboard and marker from the tabletop.

"I'll go first!" She chirped, head falling back to look up at him. She winked.

"Alright, first question." Alternate Sunny scanned the room. "How long have you known each other? You have thirty seconds, starting now!"

_Uh? How should I answer?_

**_You're a smart boy. You can handle this, right?_ **

"Time!" Alternate Sunny announced. "Starting with Team Koah, Noah?"

"Too fucking long." Alternate Noah said, and Alternate Keith revealed his board. Legible handwriting read 'however long this Sucker's worked here, unfortunately'.

"Close enough," Alternate Sunny said. "Ian?"

"Prob since I hired this crazy bish?" Alternate Ian lifted his palms to the ceiling, and Alternate Olivia flipped her board around. Her curly script stated 'since hired? 3 years? I 'unno.'

"Shayne?"

Before Shayne could even stumble over his guess, Alternate Courtney presented her board. A collective groan resounded through the room. Craning his neck, Shayne failed to decipher the messy scribbles blanketing Alternate Courtney's board.

"CUT!" Alternate Sunny yelled, wiping his hand down his face. Marching over to stand in front of Shayne and Alternate Courtney, his pointer and thumb massaged his temples. "Ignoring the fact that you revealed your answer too soon, two months? Really, Courtney? You do realize that everyone and their mother knows you two met in elementary school. Why are you lying?"

Alternate Courtney just tittered and wriggled in his lap. A sigh displaced Alternate Sunny's focus to Shayne.

"She's having one of her days, isn't she?" —Shayne shrugged.— "Lovely, just what I need. Keith and Noah are enough drama to handle, and this will be, what? Her fourth meltdown this week? What's going on with you two? You know what, forget I asked. Let's just get this over with."

Kneeling, Alternate Sunny placed a tentative hand on her knee. His tone and face softened as he asked, "Cor-Cor, you think you can be truthful for the rest of the video?"

"Uh, uh, Cor-Cor n-never l-lies. H-He's the l-liar." She cocked her head at him, her thumb pointing back at Shayne. Alternate Shayne's chuckle displaced his grasp, and realization anchored his stomach to the couch. Fright tensing his posture replied.

**_Well, cat's out of the bag._ **

_You think?_

"Why me? Why today?" Alternate Sunny carded his fingers through his clipped black hair. "Ten-minute break, and we'll go from there."

The cast and crew vacated the room in a matter of seconds. '

Launching into the air, Alternate Courtney stumbled over her feet and collapsed backwards onto him. Her giddy grin and childish giggling exchanged with a coy smirk and a timid chuckle for a brief moment before that child-like wonder reappeared.

_What do I do now?_

Panic tainted his question, that distant stare returning along with her agitated antics.

**_That's up to that little brat up there. Fuck, I'm going to miss this unpredictability of hers. Always a guessing game. And clever. Too clever for her own benefit sometimes. Shit, this isn't good._ **

_Not good? Not good? Help me, Goddamnit. I thought you cared about this girl._

**_If you're taking my place, I need to know that you won't run away when there's no one to instruct your sorry ass._ **

_A considerate egotistical ass, who would have thought?_

**_My pride isn't worth her safety. Just... Be gentle. She's in flux, has been for the last few days. And, fuck, I'm going to puke._**

"T-thought you could fool me, didn't ya?" Cor-Cor squeaked, gathering her knees to her chest. Lolling her head backwards, greens locked on to him as she swayed back and forth. Her mischevious smirk promised nothing good.

"His idea, not mine," Shayne muttered, scratching the back of his head. Avoiding the ball of energy in his lap failed to diminish the rising guilt boiling in his gut.

"Mhm, of course, it was." Blonde tresses whipped his collar as she swiveled around so that her shoulder jabbed into his chest. Bent legs encased his thigh, rubber soles flat on the couch. Coiling a lock around her index finger, Cor-Cor's unoccupied hand poked the spot where his collarbones coincided.

"Testing you probably. He thinks you're a coward? Is it true?" she asked. Fingertips sketched a dotted line down his torso, accentuating each dot with a 'boop' sound as she zig-zagged lower. Shayne bit his lip, seizing her before she crossed his belly-button.

"Not your boyfriend." Repositioning her squirming digits onto her knee, he rammed his hands underneath him and begged for static. His awareness drifted to the ground as he faded to a whisper. "Just occupying his body.... Maybe forever."

Regret hit hard. The awe kindling her complexion obliterated in an instant. Once upturned lips now drooped, and her sparkling emeralds no longer glistened. Steady breathing sputtered to a hitchy mess. Withdrawing into her self, Cor-Cor tucked her limbs close to her form. Rocking back and forth as if to soothe herself.

"I d-don't l-like to talk about it." Tears cracked her voice, saliva slathering her words. Knuckles dabbed at droplets clinging to her eyelashes as a forced smile ousted her frown. A mask that fooled no one but herself. "B-but we can h-h-have fun, too, maybe?" She choked out, hiding in her knees.

"Hey, now don't cry. Things will be alright. He'll be back here in no time." A velvety softness offered reassurance, but the stiffening of her form informed of its failure before she even spoke.

"Liar."

Oceans poured from her, salt and snot drenching her legs. A shakey hand escaped its prison to rub rings across her back. Feather-light touch that comforted nothing. Forboding chilled the hairs prickling the nape of his neck, shivers arresting his attempt to console her. A foreign rage jailed his knuckles underneath himself once more.

**_YOU FUCKER. YOU FUCKER. YOU FUCKER. WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT SKIN CONTACT?_ **

_IT FEELS LIKE CHEATING, OKAY?_

**_For fuck's sake, you wouldn't just sit back and watch your friend cry, would you?_ **

_Of course not, but if you haven't gathered, I'm not exactly the touchy-feely type when it pertains to just friends. I usually, you know, use my words._

**_Ever try talking a kid out of a tantrum? Doesn't work. She needs touch. Cuddle her. Kiss her temples. It's doesn't matter. Just do something to stop those tears of hers, OR I WILL KILL YOU._ **

The metallic rivets bolting his jean's back pocket scraped his knuckles as he liberated his hands from their prison. Tremors infiltrated every movement as uncertainty and self-hatred sowed seeds somewhere deep within. _I can't believe I'm doing this._

Calloused pads started at the small of her back and scampered up columns of pink chord. Their dance skimmed over her neck and across blonde threads until Cor-Cor's bowed head concealed his actions, and muscle sheltered her.

Instincts pinned a lock behind her ear before spiraled tips located her temples. Roots bursting from their casing, long tendrils burrowed into flesh. Self-hatred mangled his intestines as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. A deep inhale rewarded him, ragged sobs tapering off to shallow breaths.

She looked up at him.

Red vines encroached on watery greens that vacillated between Shayne and her tear-caked legs. Sniffling, she nuzzled into him as a hiccup brought a few stray tears to the surface. The ache in his heart overpowered the seeds of guilt. Affection finding her temples and salt coating his tastes, combined relief washed over him as he felt her relax.

Mouth to her temple, minutes passed them by until her breathing evened out, and she pitched backwards with a delicate simper.

"Y-your not him, but you could be... Maybe," Cor-cor said, patting her index fingers together.

"About that," Shayne said, his palm now encircling her ankle. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Besides your l-lack of." —One leg absentmindedly falling on his pecs and the other hanging off his knees, she gestured to his crotch and giggled.— "You didn't check."

"Didn't check?"

**_CRAP._ **

"Mhmm." Cor-Cor bit her tongue in a grin before snatching his hand. She toyed with his fingers. "He left before me, which means I dressed myself today like a big girl! Aren't you proud?"

**_Extremely, Baby Girl. And look at you, you're not even stuttering. Fuck, that's a shock. Maybe this could work after all._ **

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"Well, duh, silly. You forgot to check if I was wearing panties. You know, 'cause sometimes I forget." Blue lakes swelled into vast oceans, heart leaping to his throat to halt his breath. Pink fabric shifting in his peripheral lured his gaze to where her fingers flipped the hem of her dress. "I am, by the way, see?" She flashed him, showing off cotton duck-print undies.

"Really didn't need to see that." Shayne pinched the bridge of his nose. Prying the dress from her hands, he pulled the material down to cover her. She pouted, scrunching up her nose and sticking her tongue out at him. Cute and innocent, he couldn't help but chuckle.

A toothy grin rewarded him.

"Aren't you curious why he dresses me?" Cor-Cor closed her legs, twisting at the waist to confront him straight on. Curls of blonde circled her pointer, while the other clutched his shoulder for balance. "Most people are when they find out. Most people have TONS of questions, like tons and tons and tons of them."

"Ignorance is bliss? It's not like you're hurting anyone, right?"

_This kid persona..._

**_Little._ **

_Little, right. It's not sexual, is it?_

**_Not that kind of perv, you sicko. No sex involved._ **

_You do realize part of the reason she identified me was—_

**_That's just a constant. Look, this her safety net. The bubble she goes to when her brain becomes too much to handle. A coping mechanism, comprende?_ **

Tugging on his shirt prevented Shayne from responding. Peering down, Cor-Cor furrowed her brow, cotton balled in her tiny fists. She stretched the material, accumulating bunches of fabric between her fingers.

"He's right, you are a party pooper," she whined.

"I am, am I?" Shayne stifled a laugh, her adorable nature growing on him.

"Yes, you don't ask questions. You zone off into nowhere land like a loon." Leveraging her grip on his shirt, she folded her knees underneath herself in order to be at eye level with him. "Boring, boring, boring." A boop to his nose punctuated each word.

Rapping on the door alerted Shayne to the cast and crew still waiting to recommence filming.

"I'll give you ten more minutes," Alternate Sunny shouted.

"Well, this video we're shooting should be fun, right?"

"Nu-uh. Nope, nope, nope. I know him already." She knocked on his skull. "I wanna know about you."

"Well, how about this?" Shayne stilled her tapping. "Next time I'm here, we'll play twenty questions. We can learn about each other then, hmm?"

"I wish there wouldn't be a next time." The sudden frailty to her voice urged Shayne to scoot her closer. Clutching her head to his breast, he placed a soft kiss to her hair before propping his chin on her hair. "You seem okay, and I think I can trust you. But you're not him."

"I know, and I have my Damien working on fixing this. But, for now, we might be stuck together for a while."

"You have a Dames-Dames too?" She squeaked. "He's fun, isn't he? Though you have a bigger dick."

Saliva spurted from his lips, shock widening his blue orbs. Swallowing his surprise, it adhered to his esophagus and propelled him into a coughing fit.

"Thank you?"

_First off, why does she know that? How does she know that? I don't even know that. Second, I thought you said this wasn't sexual?_

**_Have you ever met a kid? They don't have filters. Pure, unfiltered stream of thought. Plus, knowing her, she's pushing you. The little brat wants to see if you'll put her in a time out._**

_Should I?_

**_Not today. Not with her recent fluctuations. Her staying little long enough for her to start acting bratty, it hasn't happened for a while. Fuck, she's been slipping out ever since she figured out I wouldn't be there to take care of her, and I started losing time._ **

**_God, it's good to get this off my chest._ **

"Oh, you didn't know?" Courtney gnawed on her thumb, soft giggles lifting the corners of her mouth to her ears.

"Didn't know what?"

"That we had a threesome, Silly." —She snorted.— "I told her, but I guess she forgot to tell you, oopsie daisy."

"You had a threesome? With Damien?" Shayne deadpanned. She nodded, chomping down on her thumb.

_She's joking, right?_

**_Oh, how I wish she were._ **

"He won't take care of me though." Sadness crept into her cadence, sights drifting to her digits. Deep red stained the white cuff of her shirt, blood pooling from where teeth had pierced skin. "Not this me. Maybe big girl me. But not after..."

Tightening his hold, Shayne guided her ear to his heart as his other hand uncovered her injured one. Inspecting the damage hollowed his heart despite its superficiality. Iron tainted his lips as he kissed it better.

"I'm too much work, apparently."

"Now why would he say that?"

Clamped lips answered him as she squirmed around to embrace his waist. Burying her face in his chest, she mumbled something inaudible before descending into silence. His palm calmed her back as she appeared to fall asleep, limp limbs sprawling out behind her.

_Care to translate?_

**_You see how dependent she is, don't you? And you, you were such a coward, always running away._ **

_So you enlisted Damien?_

**_Can you blame me? Not that it matters anymore. Turns out aftercare isn't his strong suit. Honestly, I'm glad it isn't. I mean, at least with you, there's a mutual trust. I'll protect that feisty one of yours, and you'll shelter my dove. Plus, my face, my voice, it'll be easier for her._ **

_Wait, wait, wait, even if I lost my mind and let you touch her, do you really think that, quote-unquote feisty, independent woman who I've watched boss you around would?_

**_Who's her support system going to be then? Damien and Olivia are great, but they can't be there in the middle of the night when thoughts race, and there's nothing but silence to drown them out. For fuck's sake, do you really expect her to handle this alone?_ **

Leafing his fingers through Cor-Cor's hair, he contemplated Alternate Shayne's proposal. Underneath the stacks of hatred, fear, and loyalty, the truth bittered his tongue. A stirring in his arms lowered his gaze.

"You won't let me fall, will you?" Cor-Cor whimpered, eyes pleading with him.

_Why should I trust you?_

**_Because I'm trusting you._**

Static distorted the tail end of his words and cleaved through Shayne's ear, dull blades sawing the bonds cementing his soul into place. Residual spirit clung to their bony footholds as his blended essence released. It nosedived into blackness, leaving the static in its wake.'  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  
  


Every atom screamed with agony as Shayne's soul slammed into his body. Sharp knifes sliced at flesh, minuscule razors carving through every inch of him — inside and out. It coursed through his veins until the static caught up, and numbness flooded him.

For once, he savored it. Bathing in the void of sensory input rather than hurrying to establish his bearings. Slow but steady, the world came to him instead of the other way around. Faint humming. The hint of citrus. Soft heat on his skin. Once the numbness evaporated, and the absence of pain assured its departure, Shayne blinked awake.

Worried emeralds stared down at him, edges red and corneas waterlogged.

_She found me._  
  
  



	31. Courtney

Frightened breathing filtered through the silence that hollowed Shayne's bedroom. Erratic bursts too shallow to saturate. Deprived of oxygen, a lightheaded and distraught Courtney shielded Shayne's unconscious body from the late morning sun as it infiltrated his room.

Burning rays poured across fields of blue, his sheets now a disheveled mess of untucked corners. A thick coating of dust sullied where textile encountered floor. Grime that extended to the pillows and duvet Courtney had kicked off in a hurricane of panic. Panic that still pumped through her veins as she waited for Shayne's return.

Prayed for Shayne to return.

Anxiety had propelled her into action the second she exited the bathroom and found him sprawled across the bed. Breathing, but unresponsive. Wearing nothing but her towel, she had raced to his side, determined to be the first thing Shayne saw when he awakened. That had been thirty minutes ago. Thirty minutes that had regret seeding its roots.

With his head cradled in her lap and nothing but loosely tied terrycloth and her clenched thighs concealing her intimates, a torrent of worst-case scenarios second-guessed her decision. _What if Alternate Shayne wakes instead of you?_ Tugging the towel down in an attempt to better hide, Courtney groaned as the material sprung back to rest even higher on her leg than before.

The fear of Shayne waking to her absence barred her from slipping away to dress. Spying his bureau just a few feet from the bed, she strained to grab the handle. Fingertips grazing the wooden knob unable to find purchase, she surrendered her mission with a profound sigh and refocused to his limp mass anchoring her in place.

Knuckles traveling down his neck and over his torso, she adjusted his white cotton T-shirt that had hiked up to reveal his well-defined abs. Grazing his burning-hot skin, she fingered the fabric. _If he's overheating,_ _I could just steal his..._

Slight stirring dismissed the idea before she had the chance to act on it. Barely noticeable movements snowballing into a display of anguish and pain, agony contorted his face as his body writhed. Sporadic pulses of constricting and stretching muscles as if being electrocuted.

A flattened palm to his chest struggled to restrain him as nails raking through his hair willed him to calm. Seconds turned to minutes before tranquillity replaced his uncontrollable seizing. Despite his breath evening out, hers shallowed.

Behind her faulty mask, her anxiety ran rampant. Synapses on high alert. New. This was new. It amplified her escalating concern that the man who woke wouldn't belong to her. Fixing her gaze to him, she forced the tears threatening to return down her throat. _Please still be you._

Marbles rolling beneath eyelids halted her breath, quickening the rapid pounding vibrating through her ribcage. The gates barricading his blue oceans parted, but their waves ceased to crest with their new freedom, their waters still and depths murky.

The hammering in her chest stuttered. Sharp needles spiked her heart as fear punctured its muscular walls. It terminated its beating for a minute-long second.

What she perceived paralyzed.

Darkness glazed bright blue iris in a translucent film. Its scorching far more apparent on their edges than on their centers. An unseen sight. An unsettling mix. Not Alternate Shayne, but not fully Shayne either. _No. No. No. No. It can't. You can't._

She shoved him off her lap.

Chest heaving with shallow breaths, she backed up against the headboard and gathered her knees to her breasts as his trembling form struggled to sit up. Nowhere to go. No escape. Nothing to block him as he powered through the pain and dragged himself towards her. Every movement stiff and filled with effort. Wincing with pain, he persisted until he kneeled before her.

Half-scorched eyes locked on to her.

"Hey, it's me, just me," he said, a coughing fit obscuring his tone. Collapsing to his hands, he gagged on tears cascading down his cheeks. They pelted the wrinkled sheets below him. Each drop soaked the blue cotton until its once pale appearance darkened. A small puddle diffusing across its hills swelled into a lake as the rain of salt continued.

Fear overrode the distress his pain elicited, crushing Courtney even further against the headboard. Its cherry-stained wood abraded her exposed back with each fear-fueled breath. Blood evacuated her knuckles as she tightened her grip on her towel.

Shakey digits reached for her, his entire frame teetering as he balanced on his kneecaps. Jumbled blues pleaded with her, but instincts saw her flinching from his touch. A loud thump vibrated through the mattress as his arm crashed against his side in defeat.

He swallowed.

"Courtney, please, you need to believe me." Soft velvet vanquished her doubts. His voice. Shayne's voice. No gravel. No rough edges. Soft, smooth, and one-hundred percent his. _It's you. It really is you._

Relief launched Courtney into Shayne's arms, her now-forgotten towel pooling around their legs. Muffling her loud crying with his shoulder, she latched onto him. Fingers drilling into his back, she flattened against him, endeavoring for every inch of her to connect with his heat.

Though only a thin layer of black cotton divided them, she still ached to be closer. Ached for his comforting touch to erase the world. Ached to eliminate the offending article withholding his unhampered warmth. Without thinking, his shirt landed on the floor as she reglued herself to him.

"Your eyes, I thought," she sobbed. "I thought I lost you."

"My eyes?" Shayne coiled his arms around her waist, flattened palms plastering her shoulder blades. He crushed her body against his as he peppered her hair with affection.

"They're darker, like his but not." Saliva spluttered from her lips as frantic hands strived to maintain their hold. A surge of emotion too vast to process weakened their grip, riddling her with violent tremors.

Slipping down his frame, she scrambled to hoist herself back up, skin brushing skin until her face nested in the crook of his neck. His arm slotting into the small of her back pinned her in place.

"Mixed, they're mixed." Teeth scraped muscle as open-mouth sobs wracked her form. Sweet nothings mended frayed nerves as circles seared her back. It quieted her body-quaking cries, his reassurance easing them into faded whimpers.

"Shhh, I'm still me, Courtney. I'm still in control, and I'm not going anywhere. Not right now." Cupping her face, Shayne tilted her eyes to him. The calloused pad of his thumb soothed her temple, dipping to swipe at salty droplets now and then. His own tears contrasted the weak but genuine smile pulling at his lips.

Unable to take the emulsion tainting his blue pools, she wrenched herself free and propped her forehead on his pecs.

"Mixed eyes or not." He guided her ear to the rapid beating pounding through his chest. With a soft kiss, he nuzzled into her hair. His quiet cries paralleling hers, he chanted. "It's me. I'm still me."


	32. Courtney

An overplayed Christmas movie cast a red and green glow over Shayne's living room, its flickering light bouncing off the reflective finish of his coffee table. It painted the back of Shayne's laptop that was perched on Courtney's lap, who sat cross-legged between his thighs. The film's monotonous dialogue and interspersed commercials drowned the erratic clicking of unskilled fingers stumbling across a keyboard; though, her focus resided on his typing.

Emeralds tracked the sluggish addition of letters pushing his words across the screen. Once in a while, they ventured south to where, letter by letter, Shayne's pointers scavenged the disorganized alphabet for his next selection.

Aching to carry his burden, she had volunteered to help, her nimble fingers, and superior typing skills at his service. An offer to transcribe his journal entry intended to ease the stress weighing his shoulders. Despite presenting her best efforts, Shayne had insisted on tormenting her with this excruciatingly slow process.

That had been an hour ago. An hour spent relishing his heat. An hour spent following his breathing. An hour sheltered in his arms. It quieted the aftershocks of that morning's panic.

Shayne trusting her with his unfiltered narrative topped the icing on the cake. Like reading a diary entry in real-time, she peered into the inner workings of his mind. A display of vulnerability that she wanted but never asked for. Upon settling in the living room, he had just hauled her into his lap and started typing.

Its conclusion nearing, Courtney skimmed the entry one last time to absorb his experience and process it.

Little Courtney. The bizarre dynamic. The inevitable switch. Alternate Shayne's proposal. All of it, or what she presumed to be all of it, at least. The only thing omitted, the explicit details upon her request to preserve Damien's innocence. Something she had also neglected to mention in her last journal sent. It failed to seem relevant, anyways, considering the grand discovery of this impending switch.

_Switching, not disappearing._

Backing against Shayne, solid muscle solidified the distinction that switching implied. With Shayne in the Alternate's world...

_I can find you. You'll still exist._

Separated yet connected. Just a forced Glimpse away. A long-distance relationship, except instead of land and sea, an entire dimension would divide them. Saving grace breached a limitless sea of despair. 

'What does this mean for our tangled souls' situation? And my Glimpsing?' Shayne typed out, concluding the journal entry. Saving the document, he exported it to a 'PDF' file before starting Google Chrome.

Delving into Shayne's inquiry, branches sprouted into a web of possibilities, forking paths interlocking in a winding labyrinth with two avenues of success. All shrouded in mystery, and all cloaked in dread. Though one, in particular, stilled her breath. 

_What happens if your connection severs and all of this ends?_

Shayne opening his E-mail, she pocketed her train of thought. His cursor inched across the page and attached his entry to a blank message. Racing the arrow to the 'send' button, it never arrived. Instead, the return of clicking piqued her interest.

'I'm ready to give that plan of yours a shot.' Shayne entered into the subject line before forwarding it to Damien and closing the laptop. Chin hooking onto her shoulder, heat crushed her back as Shayne strained to set the laptop on the coffee table.

"Let's go celebrate Christmas, hmm?" Shayne said, planting an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. Coiling his arms around her waist, he pitched back against the couch, taking her along with him.

Her back flush with his chest, flames slipped under her borrowed tank-top. She had discovered in the back of his closet. Either forgotten from her last visit, or his ex's. Its plain white cotton too unoriginal to distinguish its owner. Not that it mattered, though she wished she had stolen one of his.

"And not with some dumb movie," Shayne clarified, calloused fingertips drifting over the waistband of his boxers capping her thighs. They forded hills of red plaid to knead the knots strangling her bare thighs. "Let's go somewhere, have some fun for once."

Seizing him before his massage ventured higher, she deposited his grip on the couch. The lack of touch chilling her form invited her to face him. Fingertips sinking into the folds of baggy grey cotton, she gathered her knees between his sweatpants-covered legs, careful not to graze too high or cause discomfort. 

"This is heavy stuff, Shayne," Courtney said with a sigh. "You can't... We can't just push this aside."

"It's in Damien's hands, now. What's there to talk about?"

"You switching. Your Alternate's proposal. What we're going to do about it." Combing back his disheveled locks, Courtney fixed her gaze to his corrupted sapphires. Like layering marker to produce a darker shade, a small handful of layers still stained the boarders of his iris while a single brushstroke outlined his pupils. Her familiarity with their standard color allotted their deeper hue to register, though she worried about their friends.

"This plan that you mentioned."

"Tonight. We'll talk about it tonight, I promise." Dipping in, Shayne captured her lips as if to assuage the surmounting tension thickening the room. Despite its brevity, his taste superseded her somberness. "Let's enjoy what's left of Christmas while we still can."

"You promise?"

"You can tie me up and force it out of me tomorrow if I don't." Shayne chuckled. Her stomach flipped. The parcel secured inside her purse jumped to the forefront of her mind. Something beyond shock pricked her fingertips, excitement, arousal, both? She shook her head. _He's kidding, that's the just Alternate's schtick getting to your head._

"You think you're funny, but there's a pair of handcuffs in my bag with your name on it if you balk." With a peck to his lips, she vacated his lap and jumped to her feet. He just stared, a smirk joining his breathy laugh. "C'mon, if we're going to go anywhere, then we need to stop at my place for some clothes. What did you have in mind anyway?"  
  
  
  
  
  


Skyscrapers splattering the surrounding horizon engraved a straight-lined serpentine into plains of cloudless blue. Along with the afternoon sun, they guarded the exuberant laughter pervading the intersection of Fifth Street and Arizona Avenue. Where a vast parking lot once resided now stood an outdoor ice skating rink overflowing with occupants of varying talent.

Metallic barricades bordered the rectangular arena, with eight streetlights posted at each midline and rounded-off corner. Strung up between them, strands of white Christmas lights twinkled. Despite the sun's overbearing light dampening their glimmer, they helped convey the winter wonderland that embodied the pop-up attraction.

Food trucks and concession stands of various types dotted the rink's foam-carpeted perimeter. At every available window, people of all ages and ethnicities bundled-up in heavy jackets and sweatshirts qued. A thin film of slush slathered several sets of chattering teeth whose attire contradicted the crisp ocean breeze.

Although December's chill aided the brisk coastal air, the blazing sun above won the battle. Its unhindered heat melted the rink's icy surface faster than the two built-in refrigeration units could keep up. It made for a challenging terrain to skate on, though it at least cushioned falls.

Lost in a sea of faces, Courtney glided over the slush-splattered ice with ease. Long strides propelled her across endless expanses of tarnished white. Effortless compared to Shayne's shuffling. Just a few strides behind, an unbalanced Shayne crept along at a snail's pace. Trembling and unstable. A wobbly mess that she kept in her peripheral.

The scowl crossing his features irked her heart.

_You're stuck in your head again._

Frost sprayed their ankles with her clean-cut precision as she spun on her toe to confront him. Shayne quirked an eyebrow.

"What'cha thinking about?" Courtney beamed at him. Snagging his hands, she towed him along as she skated backwards.

"Handcuffs?" Stumbling on a choppier portion of ground, he heaved his hand free to balance on her shoulder. She giggled, reaching out to stabilize him.

"It was supposed to be part of your Christmas surprise before you..." _Almost broke up with me._ Courtney clamped her lips. The events of last night smashed into her, every incident prickling her skin. Shayne's distancing behavior. The anguish-filled kiss. Alternate Shayne's rescue and subsequent comfort. _If it weren't for you... If you hadn't..._

Chunks of frozen water spattered the air as she drilled her blades into the ice. Bad idea. Frantic pinwheeling crashed into her as Shayne failed to stop, sending the two of them hurtling to the ground. Wind evacuating her lungs took her distress along with it, the shock eliminating her thoughts.

Giggling split the seal of her lips as Courtney found herself pinned underneath him nose to nose. His hearty merriment soon accompanied her. Framing her head with his forearms, Shayne lifted to hover over her.

"So, my Christmas present was tying me up?" Shayne chuckled, stealing a kiss. Cold numbing her back faded against his heat, dissolving the world around her with it. Lost in his affection. Prying eyes and nosy cameras barely scratched the surface of the desperation coursing through her veins. It implored her to hold on and never let go.

Warmth departing her, Courtney withheld a whimper as Shayne scrambled to his feet. He offered her a helping hand.

"It was Olivia's idea. I remembered how wanted I felt to have you watch me, and — FUCK." Oxygen adhered to her throat, a hitched gasp fogging the air. He jerked her up to him. Too strong. Too much force. She collided with his chest, and they plummetted to the floor once more. This time, she landed on top of him.

Resting her forehead on his pecs, labored breathing escalated into bellyaching laughter. It rippled through her form as Courtney balled his jacket in her fists. With another brief kiss, she rolled off of him and onto her back.

Clutching her stomach, she gazed up at the dwindling daylight.

Patches of pale blue mingled with the now navy sky above, seamless edges sewn together. Too bright for stars, but beautiful nonetheless. One and the same, their contrasts a matter of varying quantities of the same light. _Maybe you're not so different, after all._

"Jesus, for all that muscle, you sure are a clutz," she teased, smacking his abs with the back of her hand. Rotating her wrist, she fingered the ridges carved into his muscles through his shirt. Shouted-joy dissipated to a faint hum. Movement streaking her vision ceased. The world disappeared around her as she concentrated on his racing heart. _I'm going to miss this._

Swallowing the premature longing nestling amongst her ribs, she stood up and brushed the ice from her pants.

"Yeah, yeah, just help me up, will you?" He grinned, propping himself up on his elbows.

With both of them upright, they continued skating hand in hand.

"So, what you were saying about feeling wanted?" Shayne laced their fingers and squeezed.

"Right, I wanted to replicate it, but with Alternate Shayne..." Courtney toed the ice, mindful not to disrupt their rhythm. "Olivia thought you'd feel more secure knowing that even if he popped in, he couldn't get to me."

"Now him in handcuffs is something I'd love to see." Shayne chuckled.

"Though to be fair, a child could break that cheap plastic if they really wanted to." Glancing down, Courtney traced the thin grooves her blades had etched into the translucent crystal below. Little lines merging with an expansive spiderweb of routes. Branches lead everywhere and nowhere. Infinite potentialities. _And one isolates him with me._

"I still don't think he'd ever cross that line, by the way. Not without consent, at least." The thought slipped her filter before teeth could jail her tongue.

"Then tell me this," Shayne said, tone wavering yet firm. "Why were you so scared when you thought it was him when I woke up?"

"Fear of losing you corrupting my rationale into forgetting everything I knew." Just the recollection spiked her nerves, hairs standing on end. Upright strands desperate to reclaim his warmth and secure herself to him. _If I just hold on, maybe you won't leave._ Heart racing, tremors inundated her form as she restrained herself from acting on it. Instead, she persisted with her reassurance. _I need you to know I'll be safe._ "But I trust him, Shayne. I trust him not to go that far."

Limbs flailing in her peripheral overwhelmed her with regret.

Catching him before he faceplanted, Courtney rebalanced him with a flattened palm to his chest.

"Woah, steady there, Handsome," Courtney said, her index finger sketching a line up and down his pecs. "I'm with you, remember. Only with you." She sang the last part, drawing a circle where his clavicles met. Bare skin seared her fingertip as it danced between the collar of his shirt and his neck. It granted her a coarse chuckle, luring her gaze to him.

"And not even an entire universe can keep me from you because I can find you. I can force a Glimpse and find you, Shayne."

She swallowed.

"You'll still have me. Always have me. Screw my liver, I'll visit you every day if I have to."

Hooded eyes dragging down her body scorched her skin, their heat permeating her form. It enticed her emeralds to his gaping mouth. Fire clouding her inhibitions, her tongue darted out to taste the leftover chapstick coating her chapped flesh. _Wait till your at home, Courtney._

"Weekly. I'm going to need you alive and healthy when I get back." Shayne bit his lip, tipping her over.

Crooking her pointer into his collar, Courtney tugged Shayne in for a short kiss but wound up on her back, squashed underneath him once more.

"Seems I can't stop falling for you, can I?" Shayne said with a smirk. Brushing a stray hair from her face, he dived in to claim her lips once more. Deepening the kiss, Courtney resisted the urge to hook her leg around him. Though oblivious to their surroundings, her awareness still extended to the razor-sharp blades fastened to her soles. "Public, Courtney. We're in public." He bit out before extracting himself.

Recollecting the last time he tried to assist, she refused his help.

"Maybe that's enough skating for one day," Courtney chirped, heat crimsoning her cheeks.

"I think you might be right." Slicking his hair back, Shayne gestured to his drenched denim. Latching on to his arm, she tangled a finger in his shirt. Another bad idea that singed her spiraled pad with the need to explore. _Hold it together, Girl._ "And Courtney?"

"Yeah?" She gulped, looking up to his lust-painted face.

"If that's what you want." Shayne stared into her eyes. "All you have to do is ask. My eyes belong to you."


	33. Courtney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Smut

Fresh red sheets enclosed Courtney's sprawled-out form lying on her stomach across the diagonal of Shayne's bed. Absentminded fingertips toyed with the tracking pad of his laptop. Scrolling up and down without purpose. Too distracted by Shayne's secured bathroom door, or rather, what was hidden behind it.

On the ground adjacent to the door, their sodden garments spilled over the rim of an overfilled laundry bin. A bra strap dangling from the wrinkled heap of clothing skimmed the puddle pooling on the wooden floorboards. Why didn't I think to pack another change of clothes? This is the second time, for God's sake. Courtney groaned, shoving the laptop away. An array of colored contacts lined its screen.

The compulsion to join his shower pulsated across Courtney's exterior, spurring her to barge in and attach herself to him. To latch on and never let go. It electrified her muscle, but willpower shackled Courtney to his bed.

Tugging his borrowed shirt to her nose, Shayne's scent soothed her unraveling nerves. Its anesthetic infiltrated her arteries. Liquified comfort gushing through veins. It suppressed the rapid firing of synapses sparking her nervous system and provoked a resurgence of the past.

Memories projected across her eyelids, reels of film portraying frame after frame of a nostalgic bliss she longed for. A time where the term 'alternate' tasted foreign and genuine happiness graced his features more often than not. A time before dating even seemed in the realm of possibility.

I don't want to go back if I can't be with you.

Courtney smothered the tears condensing in her throat with his scent-saturated pillow. It's not the same. It's not you. Still, she curled into a ball around it, eyes dashing to the bathroom now and then. A few inches of wood. That was all that separated him from her, yet loneliness snaked its way in. You'll be an entire universe away soon enough.

Chimes whistling from the computer sidelined her thoughts and diverted her attention to an email notification flashing in the upper right corner of its screen. I know it's none of my business, but... Curiosity clicked it, prompting a new browser window to open to Shayne's email. Damien's response popped onto the screen:

'Sounds good, I'll text you later with a time and place. Also, I still want at this Alternate of yours, maybe pry some information out of him.'

Saliva trickled down her esophagus, snagging on membrane and choking her breath. Eyes flying back and forth, she read and reread the message. Over and over, praying that her vision had tricked her. Nothing changed. Black letters burned her irises, their connotation unwavering.

Damien wanted to talk to Alternate Shayne.

What are you crazy?

Then again, they had omitted Alternate Shayne's motivation for hating him. The threesome and the resulting fallout, items they had both elected to exclude from their journals. Too embarrassing and seemingly irrelevant. Would that prick even co-operate?

Though his jagged edges softening escorted Courtney towards a yes, she worried that it originated from self-preservation rather than a legitimate desire to assist. This change of heart. The vulnerability he chose to not only show her, but now Shayne as well. Are you scared of being alone too?

Hearing the door creak open, Courtney tabbed-out of his email and to her Amazon search. Laptop discarded to the side, her focus redirected to Shayne now leaning on the doorframe.

Water painted trails down his torso to saturate his loose-fitting sweatpants. Glistening beads accented sharp lines and chiseled abs. Traveling up his well-defined V and across bulging pecs, her emeralds tarried at stubble framing his mouth. She licked her lips, an unconscious act that a canine spearing his smirk reciprocated.

A chuckle propelled Shayne from his vantage point, heavy footfalls rounding the bed and taking him out of sight. Craning her neck, Courtney chirped upon spotting the devilish grin twisting his lips.

"My clothes have never looked so hot," Shayne growled, climbing onto the mattress and on top of her. Heat brushed her spine until it hovered millimeters away. Arching up, she yearned to connect, and the box springs squeaking rewarded her. An indication of his descent.

Heat sinking, Shayne showered her throat in a string of open-mouth kisses that soon evolved into soft nibbling. It stole a whimpered moan from her mouth.

"The things you fucking do to me, I swear." Teeth scraped the shell of her ear. Rolling her over, calloused digits slipped under cotton to knead a path up her waist. It inverted her stomach, this uncharacteristic display of dominance while still immersing her in need. Is everything okay? I'm usually the one to initiate. You didn't even ask.

"Shayne, we should—"

A searing kiss cut her off, his tongue wasting no time to explore. Passion and heat, all funneled into her. An intangible emotion chased its edges.

He wanted to run.

Walking her fingers up his abs, Courtney secured her palm to his chest and nudged him to stop.

"You said we'd talk tonight."

Actions betrayed her words.

Fingertips memorizing the valley carved between his pecs, she transversed his sternum to chart the faint map of veins outlining his neck. Her exploration venturing to his jaw, stubble rasped delicate spirals as Courtney dragged her thumb over his bottom lip.

She stole a brief kiss before shifting to cradle his cheek.

"Tie me up tomorrow, then." He nipped at her jawline. Callouses denting her ribcage adventured higher, gentle caresses on sensitive flesh. Dipping in, he murmured, "it can wait," against her lips.

"No, it can't, Shayne. Damien replied." She extracted his grasp, emeralds shifting elsewhere. "I didn't mean to look. I promise I'm not that type, but I was searching for color contacts, and—"

"Color contacts?"

"You know, so you don't have to be the guy who wears sunglasses twenty-four-seven?" She thumbed the corners of his eyes.

"You're too good for me, do you know that?" He captured her mouth in a passionate embrace that progressed down her throat as Shayne once again found purchase on her midriff.

"Damien wants to meet with your Alternate, aren't you concerned about that?" Pleasure weakened her tone as teeth teased her collar.

"Can't we just pretend to forget until tomorrow?" Shayne clamped down hard, branding her neckline in a coating of hickeys. The urgency to his claims verified the distress nagging her stomach. I need to know where you're head is at.

"Shayne, stop," Courtney ordered, drilling her nails into his chest to emphasize her command. The grunt she obtained incited her into adding more pressure. Arousal rewarded her. Fangs penetrating his lip stifled a moan as lust inundated his features. A primal hunger that captivated. Nails dug into him, craving more. You're supposed to be convincing him to talk, not turning him on.

With his grip on her middle tightening, Courtney expected — and half wanted — Shayne to pounce, so his acquiesce both surprised and disappointed.

Burrowing his paws into the sheets, Shayne glued his attention to her.

"Good, because we really need to talk about this, Shayne," Courtney continued, instincts coiling her fingers around his neck. A deep exhale cleared the passion from his features. Fear and stress soon replaced the emptiness it bequeathed. The true culprit behind his brazen behavior. "You can hide in me after, okay?"

"I just want this nightmare to be over." Shayne bowed his head, burying his face in her neck. Breathing her in, he pitched back to sit on her hips. "One minute he's threatening my life, and the next he's asking me to trust him?

"And her?" Dismounting her lap, he repositioned himself to the edge of the bed. "She's a child, an adult-sized child that he expects me to care for." Shayne raked his hair back with a breathy laugh. "You make an adorable five-year-old by the way."

Hoisting herself upright, Courtney readjusted the borrowed boxers she wore. Though her delay fried her flesh -- the lack of skin contact mutilating, it barred her from acting on impulse and ribbing him about his remark.

"Fuck, he wants me to take care of her, Courtney." Thick fingers tunneled through damp locks to support his stooped skull. "He wants me to betray you, and I don't think I can say no. I don't think it's safe to."

"I'm okay with it." Courtney wrapped herself around his shoulders, slotting her head next to his. Palms pressed against his pecs until his heartbeat reverberated through her limbs. "You acting as her caretaker." She kissed him right behind his ear.

"I thought I meant something to you." Insecurity dribbled from his tongue. It slathered her throat, seeping into her esophagus. Drip by drip, its weight burdened her gut until it descended to the floor and stilled her lungs.

"You mean the world to me, Shayne," Courtney said, devotion spilling through her thoughts to breathe the air. Her admission startled. A revelation new to her despite feeling decades old. It cemented Courtney to his back as her epiphany rippled through her.

"More than the world. My everything. You're my everything, and I need you to believe that. Because the only words strong enough to carry my devotion might scare you away." She nipped his neck to accentuate her implication.

"Then how can you be okay with me playing boyfriend to another woman?" Shayne attempted to jostle free, but she refused to relinquish him. Let me savor what little time we have remaining.

"Because I trust you. Even after that stupid stunt last night, I trust that your core is tied to me." She grabbed his breast for emphasis. His suprised yelp caused her to chuckle. "Plus, I've been trying to get you into bed for weeks now. You sleeping with her is the least of my worries."

"And if he asked me to?" Shayne intertwined their fingers.

"You'd say no."

"We're talking about the guy whose jealousy scared me half to death, remember?" Shayne sighed, dislodging himself. Standing up, his back flexed as he stretched. He started pacing.

Scooting forwards, Courtney settled into his abandoned warmth. Red cotton bunched between her petite digits as she folded her legs over the bed. It lessened the impact of his absence.

"He wouldn't have recruited Damien if saying 'no' was an option."

Wait, he enlisted Damien? No, she's the one who—

"That lying little bitch!" — She hammered the mattress. — "She told me that she just wanted to try something new, but she knew. She had to. No way was this all a coincidence."

"Excuse me?"

"He didn't enlist Damien. She did. This was her idea. All of it. She suggested it. Fuck." Courtney slid to the ground, her conviction draining to a whisper. Dejection contorted her body, slouched shoulders marrying her stooped head. "She's playing you. Playing us. Maybe both of them are."

"I'm not surprised, it was apparently her who figured this out, after all. And he did call her clever." Shayne ruffled her hair as he passed by her to the bed. Perched in front of Courtney, he dusted his fingertips across her jaw to encourage her eyes to him.

She denied him.

"But I don't think she's playing us. She's..." Dangling fists milked the stress from his forearms. "You didn't see her, Courtney. She's scared, scared like me. Worse even. Fuck, it was like walking on eggshells. Like I was just one wrong move away from shattering her."

Velvet coated in comfort caressed his words, ribbons of peach-fuzz floating through the airs. They scoured her surface. Flakes of confidence shedding from her hide exposed a fresh layer of vulnerability. Satisfied with their devastation, they bound her throat. Silky threads slithering up to infiltrate her holes scraped her hollow.

"You care about her." She gulped.

"It's hard not to," Shayne admitted. "And I promise you'd feel the same if you met her. This version of her, at least. All pigtails and princess dresses. This porcelain doll brimming with innocence, yet when she opens her mouth..." Salt clogged his words. "Fuck, I don't think she's safe to be left alone."

"You think she'd?" Courtney clutched her now invisible wound.

"From what I saw. From what I heard." Shayne held his head, claws hooking on to his face and pulling on it. "It's a guarantee. It's why he... It's why I'm worried that if their plan falls through, my role won't be strictly platonic. That it can't be."

Her gaze elevating, the tears streaking his cheeks flooded her. Any fear or jealousy his words should have produced extinguished before the chance to develop arose.

Dancing her fingers up his shin, Courtney used him as leverage to lift herself onto the bed. Folded knees tucked between his legs.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, okay? For now, he asked you to be her babysitter, not her lover, and I'm okay with that." Untangling the knots strangling his collar with one hand, Courtney palmed his jaw with the other. Her thumb cleaned the salt slicking his skin. "That's not all, is it?"

"What kind of love gives permission to cheat?"

The memory of Alternate Courtney's affection overcame, raw emotion blistering her form. An uncontainable recollection. Its foreignness singed every blood cell.

"The kind that's unconditional."

Fluttering wings pumping in her ear crushed her lithe frame against broad muscle.

"The kind built on a trust that, at the end of the day — no matter what happens, they'll return to you," Courtney said, lips connecting with where jaw and ear collided. Short and sweet but full of emotion. "I felt it. Still feel it. A love strong enough for him to sacrifice his pride.

"Do you know he can't say no to her?" She chuckled, retracting to rest her forehead on his. "Turns into this big softy. It's heartwarming coming from you, but him? It's hilarious."

"I can see that." A short laugh accompanied his words as he carded his fingers through her hair. Fastening a lock behind her ear, Shayne snatched a brief kiss and grinned. "He turned into a rambling mess around her. One moment, he'd be insulting me, and the next? These long-winded tangents. About him. About her."

"Can you blame him?" Courtney asked, after taking a moment to think. "He and Alternate Damien are on the rocks, their Smosh is a disordered mess, and the one person he shares himself with is too fragmented to handle it.

"He's probably desperate for an outlet, someone to confide in. And yeah, her proximity helped, but there's more to it than just that." Worried ivories pierced her bottom lip.

"What more could there be?" Shayne seized her hips, warming circles into her body. "You read it. He thinks you need him to protect you."

"He copes with lying, remember?" She squeezed his collar to soften her words. "The proposal. Him asking to shelter me? It's as much about him as it is about me."

"Or maybe he just wants permission to fuck you once I'm no longer in the picture."

Eyes dropping with her hands, she fiddled with her boxers as she rifled through her mind for proof. Inside, a disarray of unlabeled file cabinets overflowed with past experiences. Each event regulated to a hanging folder designed for easy access, though the unorganized chaos contradicted its purpose. Filing through one drawer after another, piece by piece, she uncovered the evidence needed to support her claim.

You're not going to like this.

Balancing on his shoulders, she disregarded the hunger for touch and swung her leg up and over his lap to sit next to him. A mistake. The lack of warmth struck her heart within seconds. Air evacuated her lungs. A crisp chill peppered her flesh with goosebumps as anxiety settled in.

"I'm not your problem to worry about. Not yet, at least." Her discovery breached her filter.

"Excuse me?"

"That's what he told me." Courtney rushed to explain before filling her lungs. "I guess you were too overwhelmed to notice it, but that night when he stepped in to stop you..."

Shayne inched closer until their biceps met. Skin contact quieted her misfiring nerves.

"His mask fell." She swallowed. "It was only for a few seconds, but I saw it. The vulnerability. The melancholy. The way his lip twitched. He's hurting, Shayne. He's hurting and scared, and if he's just as dependent on her as she is on him..."

She paused to breathe.

"Do you remember what you asked Damien, about your souls being tangled?" --Shayne nodded-- "Have you thought about what happens if the switch disentangles you? If somehow by switching, your souls become individuals. What happens then? What happens if or when the Glimpses stop?

"You... You'll still have me to some capacity. I can still visit, still check in on you. But him? If his communication with you dies, if he can't see through your eyes..."

Realization cracked her voice, tears threatening to surface. I'll be his lifeline. His sole connection to her. The thing closest to his everything. A singular choked sob spluttered from her lips before she could force the lump asphyxiating her down.

Sturdy heat enveloped her as Shayne wrenched Courtney onto his lap. Tucking her head under his chin, she sheltered herself with him. Thank you. She snuggled in until his heart pounded in her ear — a steady yet quick rhythm that stabilized her breathing.

"He's going to need me, Shayne. He's going to need me like she needs you," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

"Should I be worried?"

The emotion swirling in his endless oceans billowed into monstrous waves. Fear. Despair. Hopelessness. A cacophony of negativity she feared words could never mend. Too insignificant. Too meaningless. Too easy to be framed as a lie. She needed something stronger to convey her truth. Something your insecurities can't corrupt.

"Do you trust me?" Courtney asked, angling her front towards him.

"With my life."

"This is yours, Shayne." Guiding his hand under the waistband of her boxers, she curled it around her mound.

Blue puddles swelled into vast oceans before lowering eyelids contained them. Gaping, Shayne's Adam's apple bobbed as he froze while still clutching her.

"Mine?" he breathed, doubt lingering on his tone.

She nodded with bated breath, all the while suppressing the moan building behind gated lips. Despite the tension polluting the air, and despite her intention rooted in metaphor and not sensuality, skin touching skin scorched. It ignited a fire, smoke fogging her inhibitions and flames ravaging her defenses. Previously held convictions deserted her, and words she never fathomed falling from her lips erupted in an unfiltered spew.

"This belongs to you, and only you. I bel--"

Shayne silenced her with the same fever as earlier but without the foul aftertaste to disquiet her.

"You don't have to say it; don't ever say that," he mumbled against her lips, running a finger up and down her slick-moistened slit. Her stuttered breath broke the kiss. "I believe you." Shayne tantalized with promised pleasure, soft strokes dancing around where she craved him most.

"Please," Courtney gasped into his mouth as the pad of his thumb grazed her bundle of nerves. Fingertips swept through her slickness, spirals hesitating at her entrance. Their feather-light circles sent electricity coursing through her body, ushering need and arousal to breach the air.

Carding her fingers in his hair, Courtney locked her emeralds to his mismatched blues. Heat that rivaled her own erased the world until everything else faded into bliss. Him. Her. The bed. Nothing else existed. Just them. Just them.


	34. Shayne

Glasses shaped into disfigured '2019' spilled from the various vendors stationed on the mall's first-floor walkway. A reminder that Christmas had ended, and tomorrow the new year bloomed.

After almost a week cooped up in his room, days collided until time became irrelevant, and space merged. 5 days or 120 hours sharing the same breath, the same bed, the same contentment, it passed by too fast despite doing nothing at all. Just enjoying each other's company and reminiscing about the past, too occupied with melancholy to explore what the end of Christmas Day had gifted them — her walls clenching around his fingers.

Now racing through the mall, Shayne wished they had done more. He could hear the clock ticking. It solidified his reality, and reality seared. Needle-sharp stars assaulted his corneas. White-florescent bulbs. Blinding lights above pierced blue-glass irises. They magnified the throbbing in his head. Torment pulsated in time to his heavy footfalls chasing after Courtney.

Movement smudged his peripheral, gauze taking the world around him out of focus. The product of blood vessels expanding and contracting around his brain. A push and pull of pressure that churned his stomach. A Migraine. He had a fucking migraine.

It had plagued him since the similarities started showing, and time started overlapping. Or maybe the migraine came first. Not that it mattered, he still loathed it. The auras. The pain. The nausea. All of it had hindered his functionality from the moment he woke up. Yet when Courtney had pouted and begged for him to join, he couldn't say no. _I don't want to leave too soon._

At least with the migraine, Alternate Shayne stayed silent, though his presence pulsed with every step. Like an invisible shadow running parallel to him, an echoing of movement that simultaneous action produced.

Bumping into a cloud of displeased faces, Shayne tripped over his feet. Shockwaves rippling through the rubber soles of his sneakers climbed to his teeth. Its electrical pulses haunted his skull, sparks ushering a wave of queasiness to break over him.

"Wait up!" he called out. Scrambling to remain upright, Shayne stabilized himself on the railing as he craned his neck to Courtney.

Blonde swam through the air, rays of sunshine waltzing in the wind. Pure elation cresting her complexion, Courtney beamed at him. Too far away to perceive his discomfort, she shrouded herself in a protective bubble.

Desperate to defend her delicate shield, Shayne stomached his illness in fear of popping her feeble glee. _It's just a headache. Let her have a day to relax and be free._

"I thought I lost you!" she chirped, snatching his hand and tugging towards a Build-a-Bear Workshop located a store's length away.

The latest My Little Pony character welcomed them from its perch on a sales display bisecting the entrance. Shayne froze, Courtney's hand detaching as she ventured further into the store. Twilight Sparkle's grimace had paralyzed him. Purple thread detailed the stuffed pony's exterior, its seams distorting with each fleeting second. Loops of viscous fibers dripped down its features.

It hunted Shayne as he crossed the shop's threshold.

_Dolls, they're just dolls._

Shelves of mangled faces greeted him.

_FUCK._

Stopping at a sample of promoted merchandise, he gulped. On top stood a plump rabbit wearing rollerskates. It patrolled the room, stalking its prey. Slipping out of its radar, Shayne faltered backwards upon coming face-to-face with beady eyes. They were staring straight at him.

"C-Courtney," he stammered. White-engulfed irises locked on the heart-nosed, hammer-wielding bear glaring at him. It snarled at him, white fangs on the attack.

Stumbling into another shopper, Shayne surveyed the store frantic to escape this hellhole. The rapid change in momentum darkened the auras obscuring the world. Still, a swish of blonde brought a smile to his eyes.

Across the floor, Courtney plucked a fur skin from one of the drawers and inspected it. Her grin illuminated him as she pivoted to Shayne and bounded over. His T-shirt flew up with each bounce, revealing the blue denim shorts capping her thighs. Each footfall punched his ears as she approached. Louder and louder until its frequency speared his skull.

He blinked.  
  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Silence crashed into him. Darkness peeled into light. Pain dissolved into nothing but that familiar numb.

Stripes of blonde barreled towards him. Courtney? No. A black band sliced her neck. A collar. Alternate Courtney. He had Glimpsed?

Glancing around, Shayne discerned various toys stocking the shelves towering over him. It resembled something closer to a toy store than a Build-a-Bear Workshop.

_No static?_

Stopping an arm's length away, Alternate Courtney fixed her sights on him as she doubled over with a grin. Clasped hands concealed a gray blob behind her back. Gone were the corduroy dress and high-set pigtails. A black-pleated skirt and red crop top assumed their place.

Her precarious wobble lured his gaze to black-matte stilettos.

_Fuck._

"Toppy! Toppy! Toppy! I wore big girl clothes just like you said!" Alternate Courtney said. Her cadence startled him, its childlike nature countering her attire. "Which meeeans!" Cor-Cor shoved a stuffed hippo in his face, giggling.

A hand shot out, his hand. Suddenly, he was grabbing her face. Involuntary, that had been involuntary. Unconscious. Foreign.

Alternate Shayne was in control.

"I get—"  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


"...This one?" Courtney asked, cleaving rings into Shayne's eardrums. A high-pitched ringing that reverberated into his bone. Its oscillations blurred his vision, though he still distinguished the brown — not grey — mop inches from his face.

_At least, I'm not passing out... I think..._

"Uh," Shayne grunted through his teeth, peeking at Courtney. A pointed smirk hardened his resolve.

_Don't ruin this; she deserves a stress-free day._

"I asked if you like this one." She gestured to the clump in her raised fist. "Shayne, you weren't zoning out, were you?"

Pain constricted his features as he accessed what 'one' referred to. Unkempt chestnut hair dangled from her raised fist, thick strands of fur sprouting from limp cloth. The artificial skin of an indiscernible species.

Swallowing a wince, he begged for the incessant ringing to quiet, but it refused.

_Don't let her see._

"What is it exactly?" Shayne snagged the empty husk, pinching each paw as he held it out in front of him. A chuckle split his lips, choppy breath stabbing his features, but he neglected it, hoping she would overlook his cracking mask. "It just looks like a glob of fur."

"It's a bear, silly. Is everything okay?" Courtney squeezed his arm.

"Just tired, that's all." Inflating his lungs, Shayne faked a smile to mask the pain gnawing at his brain. Stroking his knuckles across her cheek, he assuaged the concern marring her complexion. "It's just a little hard to sleep when it's so easy to get lost in watching you." Truth aided his deflection.

_Probably why I got this damn migraine. Too busy gawking._

Warmth latched to Shayne's arm as her smile reemerged with vigor. The skin contact eased the agonizing pain pulsing through his brain and dimmed the migraine-induced auras tainting the environment. Placing a quick kiss on his bicep, Courtney snatched the bear pelt, and relief ended.

Sharp spikes nailed through his skull and forced his eyes shut as an oblivious Courtney pranced away.

A steady rhythm echoed in the darkness.  
  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Patterned footfalls morphed into disjointed clacking. Heart-shaped bears shifted into an expansive hallway of shelves.

Blue and yellow scattered expansive plains of pink and purple boxes. Squinting, Shayne spotted Cor-Cor through the haze. She dawdled along up ahead, grey fluff tipping her swinging arm. Innocence still contrasted the maturity embellishing her form.

A feverish love raging in Alternate Shayne called the shots as he walked towards her. Unaltered and unrestricted desire. Foreign resonated with something close to home, something only just sprouting for Shayne.

"I'm going to name it Freddy," Cor-Cor squeaked, stomping her feet in excitement before taking off. She skipped down rows of barbies and various accessories, pausing where the hallway of shelving units opened up to a perpendicular aisle.

The stuffed hippo above her head, she twirled. Waves of black danced through the air, pleated-cotton lifting with the corners of her lips. Jumping in the air, green orbs smiled as she shrieked into laughter.

It drowned the world.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


A shrill screech scraped into a mechanical hum, the roar of an engine mixed with the grinding of gears. The sound pulverized Shayne's body, vibrating atoms challenging sharp-toothed wavelengths. Its jagged spikes pulsed in a rapid succession that matched the beating of his heart.

He tore the seal of his eyes.

Cotton spinning behind a plastic window greeted Shayne. The source of the sound. A metal rod tossed the fiber about a yellow-painted box that the window resided in. Blue varnish detailed its edges with threadlike clouds, and posted on the top, navy lettering read 'filling station'.

The machine kicking it up a notch startled him

"...Do you think?" Courtney's unwavering cadence hushed the air. Perky and bright, it verified that he wasn't fainting despite these brief Glimpses.

Pushing down the rising bile in his gullet, Shayne twisted to Courtney as they encroached on the filling station. A mistake. It propelled the room into an endless spin, clashing colors streaking his vision. Beady eyes emerged from the disorder, hundreds of monstrous faces judging with their unblinking gazes. The walls convulsed as vertigo needled in.

Every step destabilized, the floor dropping from underneath Shayne and then rushing to his shoe. It eviscerated his equilibrium.

_There's no hiding this._

Grasping for a handhold, Shayne clambered down the wall. Flat surfaces denied him, calloused palms losing traction until a portion of raised trim volunteered to be used. Faint warmth insinuated Courtney's proximity, but he refused to confirm it was her. He refused to turn and look.

"Courtney?" Shayne pinched the bridge of his nose, his stomach inverting with every breath. Acid sloshed within the mucous coated sack, threatening to erupt. Cementing his sights shut, he pleaded for the darkness to help.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Heat slammed into him. Weight dragged his body. Shirt stretched against skin.

Coiled limbs latched Cor-Cor to his torso like a koala clinging to a tree. The nails digging into his back, and the ragged breaths quaking her form told him something had changed.

Eyeing his surroundings, Shayne discovered a parking lot and not the store he expected. Alternate Shayne — still in control — was jogging, carrying Cor-Cor in his arms. The muffled sobs wracking her body grew louder with every breath.

Foreign hollowness and disconnection annihilated Shayne. Raw and frenzied panic, breath-hitching despair, a cacophony of urgency that all belonged to Alternate Shayne. It spilled into his movements as he scrambled towards a row of cars.

"Don't cry, Baby Girl. Don't cry," Alternate Shayne hushed on repeat, tone wavering and desperation unmistakable. "Baby Girl, I know you can't hear me like this, but I need you to wait till we get home. I need you to hold on, okay? I can't do tears. Not now, not here."

Fingers cupping her bottom soothed bare skin.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Warmth encompassed him. Body heat burned. Electricity discharged. Pulsations stabbed his exterior. Rapid-fire knives dilled into Shayne like a misfiring tattoo gun. Intense. Overwhelming. Deafening. Though the warmth leveled it to a tolerable degree upon acknowledging its source. Courtney. His Courtney. She sheltered him.

With his entire form quaking, Shayne snaked his arms around Courtney's midriff and embedded his face in her shoulder. Citrus and vanilla overpowered the stale air compromising the room. It achieved a reprieve from the vomit still looming inside.

"Shayne?" Courtney asked, voice quivering and concern pouring from her tongue. "Shayne, what's wrong? Baby, talk to me. Please."

A blur of girlish laughter uprooted Shayne, disconnecting him from the one thing keeping him whole.

Brown pigtails and a face full of plastic skipped passed them. The American Girl Doll under the little girl's arm cackled. Its silent howling deafened him. The caustic racket enhanced the villainous expression narrowing its brow as its glossy mismatched eyes fastened to his blues.

"It's..." Scraping his tongue against his teeth, Shayne lowered his gaze. The forgotten animal hide splayed across the tile stalled him, its mushed-up characteristics and vacant expression invoking an unsettling sense of self. He shivered. "Migraine, I think? I've never had one, and then there's..." He chewed his lip and sighed.

"I just... You looked so happy and stress-free. I didn't want to ruin that," Shayne said, deciding that disclosing his Glimpses could wait. He fretted over worrying her too much. A weak simper penetrated his reemerging headache and nausea. "I guess it's too late for that now."

"Do you want to go home? We can come back another time or?"

"I'm sorry." _I'm sorry I'm a burden._ Shayne looped his fingers through hers. Touch quelled; billowing waves drowned the pain. Spying Courtney, he chugged the saliva collecting in his pallette.

A delicate smile failed to disguise Courtney's — warranted — disappointment.

"You know what?" Folding over, Shayne retrieved the bear pelt. _Fuck._ Agony carved into him, unsheathing his nerve endings until the world mutilated.

Red-hot iron flooded Shayne's tastes as he jabbed his canine through his lip. It suppressed the environment enough to conceal his distress. "How about you get the car, and I'll finish stuffing the bear? Seems pointless to leave empty-handed."

"You sure you're okay alone?" Courtney caressed his chest, spiraled tips sweeping feather-light comfort over his broad pecs.

"I want to be useful for once," he said, dusting the disemboweled bear off. Still, dust bunnies clung to its furry exterior, grey soiling its light-chocolate pelt.

Disgust constricted both of their faces.

Plucking the filthy carcass from his grasp, Courtney rushed off towards the wall of empties. She returned seconds later, possessing its replacement.

"When you're feeling better, I'll be sure to put you to use," Courtney whispered into his ear as she handed him the fursuit. "I'll text when I'm outside, okay?" She pecked his cheek before scurrying away.

Blonde flickered out of view, and the roof caved in, crushing the air from his lungs. Torturing his resolve, it persuaded Shayne to abandon his mission and charge after her. _Stop it, this isn't you. Stop being so dependent._

Inching towards the filling station, Shayne distracted himself with the vast assortment of sounds and scents available to purchase. A record-your-own voice box beckoned him to pluck its pouch from a drawer.

Clear plastic contained a small white box. Large black lettering coating one side of the translucent bag denoted easy step-by-step instructions. The ink trickled into winding streams as Shayne read them. Powering through the mind-bending headache, he grinned.

_I can leave a piece of me behind for you._

"Next!" the employee operating the filling station declared. Shuffling forward, Shayne fumbled with the hand-off. Staring between the plastic voice box and the employees scrutinizing glare, panic suffocated him. The inflating bear corpse didn't help either.

"I'll be right back, just need to check something out real quick," Shayne said, words racing together as the brown glob expanded, and a face started to form.

The employee shrugged.

Unable to stomach the bear's vicious expression and too embarrassed to record his message within the public's earshot, Shayne galloped off in search of privacy. Somewhere his goodbye wouldn't be overheard. Something to reassure her when he no longer walked by her side. Something the foreseeable future held but the present couldn't handle. Something he hoped to say before it became too late. This would be a safety measure just in case.

Ducking behind a shelving unit, Shayne gathered a deep breath in before tearing the plastic bag open. Trembling hands clutched the plastic voice box. Two interlocking rectangles, one overlapping the other. They squished together at the slightest pressure. Thumb depressing the device, he prayed it worked.

"I love you, Courtney," Shayne spoke into where he presumed was the mic. "I love you, and I'm coming back for you."

Replaying the recording, Shayne listened as his message echoed back. Cheap speakers distorted his tone, but it still sounded like him. Satisfied, he disregarded the pulsating echo the speakers left in his ear as he sprinted to the filling station.

"Here, can you place this in its paw?" Shayne thrust the voice box into the employee's hands. The roaring machine perforated his eardrums, nausea and misery forgotten in his mission now out for vengeance.

"Uhm, those usually go in first, I would have—"

"Please," Shayne insisted.

The employee obliged with a sigh.

Buzzing in Shayne's front pocket vibrated up his hip and revved the puke threatening to explode. Retrieving his phone, he skimmed Courtney's message.

'I'm outside and ready when you are. We'll get through this, Shayne. We'll get through this together.'

Snatching the now over-plump bear, he avoided its beady eyes and hastened to the register. Paid and boxed, Shayne barreled towards the exit, zig-zagging through clouds of shoppers before barging into fresh air. It swirled the acid in his stomach, inticing it to scale his esophagus. The pulsating auras obscuring his vision aided its ascent.

_Need her._

Parked at the curb, Courtney waited in the driver's seat. Concern plastered her face. Shayne evaded her in fear of worsening it. Plopping the box in the backseat, he joined her up front.

Before they even vacated the parking lot, the jerky braking and clunky turns added a layer of car sickness to his queasiness.

"Pull over, I'm gonna—" Shayne covered his mouth as he gagged.

"Fuck, just hold on," she said, turning into the nearest empty lot. The second the car parked, Shayne bolted from the vehicle and puked.

A gentle hand soothed his back as he sealed his eyes.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Tears. Bawling. Screeching. An inconsolable Cor-Cor wailed as she sat on the hood of a car, her knees tucked between his legs.

Alternate Shayne kneaded her waist, his entire form rattled with foreign anxiety and fear. Shayne watched him pepper her face with affection.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  
  


Gasping, Shayne engulfed smog infested oxygen. Blurred vision haunted him, hot skin burning his palms. Courtney?

_Neck, check her neck._

No collar, just make-up caked hickeys. Gaze sloping lower, he noted her sitting on the hood of her car, knees between his legs.

"Fuck." Tears cut his breath, jagged sob ripping through him. Despite his vomit on the ground just a few feet away, bile climbed his throat once more.

Shayne slammed his eyes shut, planting his hands on the car. Head propped on her shoulder, he cried.

"Shayne, this isn't just a migraine, is it?" Courtney cradled his face, escorting his gaze to hers. After tidying his hair, she thumbed the corner of his mouth.

"Everything. Overlapping." Shayne choked out.

Pain bolted his eyes.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Tears cascaded down Alternate Courtney's cheeks, still perched on the hood of a car with Alternate Shayne now wedged between her legs. One hand comforted her temples, while the other kneaded her thigh. It inched higher and higher, despite Shayne's desperate attempts to stop it.

A silent observer. A passenger in Alternate Shayne's skin.

"Breathe, Dollface. I need you to breathe for me. Deep breaths, while you stable out," Alternate Shayne said, dipping down to kiss her. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it. But you're here now. I've got you."

"Take," she choked out. Her trembles ceased with a deep breath in, and everything changed. Her posture. Her face. It all morphed into an Alternate Courtney that exuded a different, more mature energy — one that no longer aligned with Cor-Cor. "Fuck, I. I need home; I need you." Upon hearing her unobstructed voice, everything made sense.

The innocent highlights that once caressed her voice were gone, and a heady husk took its place. Her emeralds had darkened. Features sharpened into a maturity that complemented the heels poking his thighs. A woman, not a kid.

_You slipped out. You've 'aged'._

Whining transferred Shayne's attention from his thoughts to Alternate Courtney canting her hips.

_Hey, might wanna hold her off? I am in here, you know?_

_Hello?_

"Dollface," Alternate Shayne mumbled into her neck, hiking his hand up her thigh. He toyed with the hem of her underwear, fingertips grazing slick folds until a hitched moan swarmed his eardrums. "Not here. We're at a toy store, remember? Let's get that hippo home, and your sexy ass in bed, hmm?" Alternate Shayne retracted, snagging the unseen hippo from behind her.

"Do you think you can hold the light until then?" Alternate Shayne added.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


"Shayne..." She breathed, anger crisping the edges of her lustful cadence. Instinct assured of his return. Scent uniquely Courtney.

Traffic sheared the protective membrane shielding his brain, cars roaring through his nerves. Darkness encountered his cracked-open orbs, shrouded in her shoulder. World ambiguous and uncertain, yet Shayne savored it. Losing himself in the taste of salt and skin. The memory of Alternate Courtney's slickness lingered, a ghostly residue enclosing his fingers in heat.

Shayne swallowed. No, not lingering. That was wrong. It coated his fingers, and it still did. Fingertips submerged in familiar velvet, inside her.

Cracking an eye open, Shayne confirmed his suspicion. Somehow his digits had found their way up her shorts and inside her. Rationale screamed, demanding his extraction, but paralysis insisted on staying.

"SHAYNE!" Courtney shouted, yanking his hand away. "WHAT THE FUCK! PUBLIC! WE'RE IN PUBLIC!"

Her voice annihilated Shayne, stealing the ground out from underneath him. He collapsed to his knees, snot and tears spraying from his lips.

"I didn't. That wasn't." He stooped his head. "You. Her. I..."

"Shayne..."

"Not in control. Glimpse. I've been. Fuck. Home. I need home."

"You've been Glimpsing?" Her voice wobbled. The anger evaporated from her features. Courtney clutched the collar of his shirt, assisting him to his feet and reorienting him between her legs. She guided his face to her neck, allowing Shayne to hide as fingers combed through his blonde locks. "How? You haven't?"

"No static, no warning. No control. Forced to watch." He sobbed into her, each breath flaying his already unsheathed nerves. "The last time..."

"This happened before?"

"Concussion... After my... Fuck I hate, hate myself..."

"Hey, hey." Courtney cooed, still leafing her digits through his hair. "This will pass. It should pass. They didn't persist after your concussion, and they won't endure after this. And if it does, well, I'll still be with you."

"Not soon enough. This pain. It's... Fuck."

Courtney kissed his forehead, fingertips sweeping down to squeeze his neck. The delicate pressure pacified his discomfort. Vibrations harmonizing numbed his head. Seemingly noticing his relief, she kneaded her thumbs into his collar.

"Please." Wanting her comfort, yearning for more, Shayne mouthed her neckline. "Make it leave." He nipped at her sensitive skin.

"I can't make it leave, but..." Courtney paused as if in thought before a hand descended his torso. "But, if you want, I can distract you." She palmed him through his jeans. The pleasure outweighed the agony, a moan cutting his cries of anguish. Shayne canted his hips into her touch to answer. "Gotta drive home first, Baby Bear. Think you can you handle that?"


	35. Shayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: smut

Mint inflated Shayne's lungs as he clambered out of his bathroom and onto fresh pink sheets. Sprawling across them on his back, he sighed in relief. No nausea, that part was over. _Thank god._

Gazing up at the ceiling, Shayne regretted his gratitude. Puckered paint morphed above him, mangled shapes and faces emerging from the dust. The last vestiges of his migraine. Leftover hallucinations that Shayne no longer feared, despite still distorting his perception.

At least the pain refrained from its torture, sharp spikes replaced with constant nagging. Shayne owed it to Courtney and the fleeting pleasure she had allotted him when the light turned red. Friction still lingered, her remedy vivid enough to prevent his headache's dull hum from progressing into roaring thunder.

Darkness liberated Shayne from the hallucinations blanketing the ceiling as he smothered his face in a pillow. Tuning to his ears, shuffling echoed from where Courtney loitered in the kitchen. Cabinets opening and closing signified a search or something.

Eyeing the closet door that concealed the unopened Build-A-Bear box, Shayne chuckled.

"Bear's in here, Angel," he called out, voice ringing in his ear. The colors in his peripheral shifted. A one-second flash of something foreign. He overlooked it, along with the hissing that trailed it. _Why don't I feel scared?_

"Not what I'm looking for, but now that I know you stole it..." Courtney's voice sounded through his room, and Shayne swallowed. The huskiness corrupted her sweet cadence into strands of viscous plasma that spooled strings of molten sugar in his core.

Approaching footfalls pounded against hardwood, each step resounded through his halls. Their padding ceasing diverted his eyes to Courtney, leaning against the door.

Handcuffs dangled from her pointer.

"Didn't take you for a criminal," Courtney said, a character-bit deceiving her tone. The corner of her mouth twitching betrayed the poker-face straightening her features. Any laughter it supplied failed to breach the surface, shock settling on the shiny plastic. His silence pulled on her features. "Fuck, sorry, I'm stupid. I wanted to lighten the mood, and shit, how's your head?"

"Tolerable thanks to you," Shayne said, propping up on his elbows. "What took ya?"

"Looking for some padding to cover these with." — She swung the plastic cuffs. — "So they wouldn't dig into your skin, but nothing worked."

"You really want to cuff me, huh?"

"So, you don't have to worry? You know, if these mini-Glimpses start up again? Or if your Alternate decides to show his face? I don't want fear ruining this." Courtney rushed through her explanation. _You shouldn't have to fret about me like this._

Her face fell when a lack of words overcame him. Pushing off the door frame, Courtney dawdled towards him. Bowed head and red cheeks accompanied her meek posture. A flash of red and black overtook her denim shorts and oversized, white T-shirt. The collar defiling her neck unnerved him for a second, but it dissolved to normal before fear snuck in.

"I guess I got a bit ahead of myself, didn't I?" She sat at the edge of the bed, handcuffs under her flattened palm. "If you don't want to, that's fine, but—"

"Courtney, you don't need to explain. I'm okay with it, I just..." Sitting up, Shayne scooted over, swiping back a curtain of blonde to shower her neck in affection. His other hand crept under her shirt and soared up her stomach to massage her breasts. Bare skin emptied his head of blood to fill another. "I just wish you didn't feel the need to."

"I want to do this, Shayne, but I don't need to. I just thought it would allow you to focus on..." She palmed his crotch. "But if you—" He tweaked her nipple until her neck and back arched with a moan.

"Cuff me." He nipped at her earlobe. "Cuff me before I can't take my hands off you."

A blur of blond crashed into him, claiming him in a brutal kiss. _Something tells me you want this more for you._ He grinned into her mouth before reciprocating with vigor.

Planting her palms on his pecs, she pushed Shayne onto his back and mounted his lap. Cuffs clanking together, plastic and nails scraped up his chest as mouths battled and hips rubbed. Fingertips scaled his arm to his wrist. Jerking it to the headboard, she dragged his lower lip between her teeth as she cuffed him.

Weight shifting to her hips, Courtney attempted to do the same with the other. Red tinted her cheeks when his bulky muscle prevented the second cuff from reaching.

"Well, this is awkward," Shayne said with a breathy chuckle.

"Shut up!" She pushed his chest. "How was I supposed to account for this?" She pinched his bicep. Soft giggles relieved the embarrassment painting her features. It soon faded, disappointment marring her expression as she scrambled to undo his lone cuff. _This means a lot to you, doesn't it?_

"I have scarves," Shayne blurted out, desperate to regain her smile. "In my dresser, bottom right. You use two of those."

"Thank you," she said, leaving him with one last kiss.

Blue denim hugged her bottom as she rifled through a drawer. Doubled over at the waist, ass in the air. Frayed threads framing her curves hid everything yet drove his imagination wild. No, not imagination, memories. These were memories now. Her flower. The shadow where her buttcheeks folded against her thighs. Images that once belonged to fantasy now pertained to his reality.

"Need you," Shayne bit out, kneading himself through his jeans.

"Coming just, fuck—" She caught him red-handed — two scarves dangling from her hands. For a brief moment, they blurred into ropes, blue and beige transforming into thin black chords. Gazing up, a collar on her neck stopped Shayne in his tracks, hands shooting to the sheets.

"I don't mind." Courtney smirked, climbing onto the bed. She hobbled on her knees until she straddled him. "Just next time, I want to watch."

"Yes." He breathed out, a scarf — not a rope — plopping on his shoulder. Lifting his gaze, Shayne relaxed upon seeing her bare, uncollared throat.

Stooping down to steal a brief kiss, Courtney wound a scarf around his wrist. Lines of folded cotton that she knotted with ease. Guiding his arm over his head, she secured it to his headboard before redirecting her attention to his other hand.

"Say toaster, and I'll stop," Courtney said with a smirk, confirming her satisfaction.

Lengths of cotton anchored his arms to the headboard in a 'Y' position. Struggling against her hefty knots, Shayne sensed the material loosen, but he figured the knots would hold for the short term.

A sharp moan cut his train of thought short as Courtney grinded down on him. Before his pleasure broke the air, she lifted off of him. The sudden loss of pressure urged Shayne's hips to follow.

"I'll tie those too if I have to, do you understand?" Nails to his chest stopped him. He nodded, stifling a moan. She frowned. "I need to hear you."

"I'll do whatever you say, Angel," Shayne said. "You're in control."

Brutal lust crashed into him, teeth clanking and tongues charging in. Nails shot a bolt of arousal down his chest. It vibrated through him until its electric charge fizzled as claws scraping faded into delicate pads dancing across skin. Touch too gentle to encourage fire. Shayne whined into her mouth.

Teeth soon joined her conquest, timid bites to his neck kindling flames. Hips cemented to the sheets, he arched into her touch, searching for more.

"Harder," Shayne croaked. Fingertips craved to cradle her face, to guide her into aiding his passion, but the headboard creaking and cotton stiffening refused them.

Pleasure-coated pain rippled through his form as she clamped onto his throat. It erased the world, spiking his torso. He bucked up, grazing her core.

Courtney torqued his nipple. Harsh and sudden pain drew a wonton whimper from his lips, flooding him with gasoline. It set his body ablaze. Her touch abandoning him extinguished it.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," she stammered. Retracting, she bowed her head. Innocence infiltrated the worry and concern that softened her features. Dark cotton flashed across her neck. The alternate universe breached his world. Brief and fleeting, the black band disappeared. _A hallucination. It's just the migraine playing games._ Soft circles around his nipple diverted his full attention.

"No, you can keep doing that," Shayne said, too embarrassed to vocalize that he liked the pain. "The thing you just..." She pinched him, pain curling his toes in need. "That. Fuck please just—"

Teeth rolling his nipple cut him off, pleasure curling over him.

"Fuck!" Courtney bit down. Hard. It injected him with raw arousal that surged to his member. He jerked against his restraints, desperate for friction.

Etching red lines down his abs, Courtney sketched a bumpy roadmap into his stomach that led straight to his jeans. She fumbled with the button and zipper, urgency driving her clumsiness. After numerous failures, the jeans popped open, and her hand rushed in.

"Kinky boy," she murmured, grasping him through his boxers. Rock hard and leaking. "You really do love the pain." Long languid strokes milked with a teasing pressure, thumb soothing his tip every now and then. It pooled in his core, raw molten fire inching lower until passion split his lips in a gargled groan.

Teeth branding his torso rewarded Shayne with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain. Speckled hickeys guided Shayne's gaze to where blonde now nipped and licked at his 'V'. Hungry. Urgent. Needy. One hand pawing his chest as the other worked his length. Shayne whimpered in protest as pleasure ended, but grinning emeralds quieted him.

A coy smirk lit Courtney's face as she dragged his jeans and boxers down his legs. Denim scratching skin tantalized, the coarse texture complementing the rush of air. It wafted over his rock-hard erection as it celebrated its freedom.

"Fuck, you're thick." Lust penetrated her tone. Emeralds fascinated with his arousal, and lips parted. She gathered a bead of precum on her thumb.

"C-Cor." He choked out. "See you, I want to see you."

Her shirt floated to the floor.

 _No bra,_ Shayne swallowed.

"You like what you see?" Courtney dipped her hands between her breasts before caressing down to cup them. His dick twitched. "I'll take that as a yes." She giggled. Smoothing her hands down her waist, Courtney shimmied out of her shorts and shucked them to the floor.

"So fucking hot," Shayne mewled, noting the damp patch darkening her purple panties. The wet cotton clung to the lithe digits stroking her flower through it. "Fuck."

"Sorry." She blushed. The collar flashed. Shayne ignored it.

Adjusting her underwear, slow, purposeful strokes coated his erection. It boiled his skin, prompting Shayne to buck into Courtney's grip without thinking.

"Mine, this is mine." She squeezed to the cusp of pain. It invigorated him. A guttural whine breaking through his teeth earned her strokes picking up the pace. The more he squirmed, the more attention he received. Cries of pleasure heavily rewarded. "Look at me." Her words heated the tip of his dick.

"Y-y-yes." He bolted his eyes to her emeralds.

"Good Bear," she praised. A strangled moan arched his body as her lips wrapped around his tip. Shallow and fleeting mixed with deep and slow. Popping off, she planted open-mouthed kisses across his tip, spending extra time at his glands.

"Cl-Close," Shayne cried, fists clenching and wrists pulling against the scarves. Waves crashed against his shaft, pleasure climbing up and...

Pressure ceased.

"Please, I nee—" his breath adhered to his throat as feather-light spirals tantalized. But that wasn't what hitched his breath. The fingers gliding in and out of Courtney did. Underwear swiped to the side. Shallow. Fast. Sporadic pulls and tugs. Her ministrations on him decreased as her focus shifted, but he failed to care, too enamored with the arch of her neck, and her heated emeralds fastened to him. "Fuck."

"Shayne," she breathed.

"I want to taste you," Shayne grunted out without thinking, pulling against his restraints. A moan tumbled from her lips, spilling over his skin and smothering him in a syrup. It glazed every pore in a saccharine luster that overwhelmed with need.

"Shayne—"

"You said you'd put me to use, so use me."

The mattress shifting alerted of her ascent. Lips scoring her climb, her core skimmed his torso until it hovered over his mouth.

"Kick the bed if you want me to get off," she said.

Her scent engulfed him, a tang-doused cloth meeting his tongue.

"Panties, Court." He hoped his muffled voice carried.

"Guess I got ahead of myself." Peeling them off, a pink flower graced his sights. Slick. Glistening.

"Just sit already."

Thighs crushing his cheeks, her taste suffocated him. Peering up, the world pulsed. Black cord suddenly outlined her body, the ribbon-like rope crisscrossing her abdomen in an intricate pattern. A harness of sorts that framed her intimates and immobilized her. Blinking, the rigging vanished.

"Shayne," she breathed, redirecting his gaze. Hazy green eyes stared at him. Head bowed. Teeth clamping her lip.

'I love you.' He mouthed into her. Fingers jetting into his hair, half pushing away half drawing in, clung to him. Her muscles quivering.

"Shayne, right there. Don't stop. Don't stop. Right there, fucking," she cried out, bucking without inhibition. A lot. Too much. He thought to kick but the liquid cascading down his chin accompanied her movements slowing and posture slumping. A soft whimper slid her down his chest until she straddled his torso. Body stooped and limp as her chest heaved with every breath.

Leaning back, his rock hard member pressed into the small of her back.

"Fuck, I made this about me huh, didn't I?" She rolled over, slit in his face as she toyed with his erection. She licked his tip before warm lips surrounded him once more.

"Courtney, I want to see your eyes." His words countered his stare that was locked on her flower. Pink petals glistening and open. Quivering. Begging for attention. Begging to be filled.

"Hmm, wha you shay?" Courtney murmured around his cock.

Yanking against his restraints, contact eluded Shayne. Her honey just out of reach. Foreign pulsed within him, urging him to rip free and grab her. Clamping his eyes shut, Shayne balled his hands around the scarves.

Flopping back, Shayne distracted himself with the sensation of her lips. Wet and warm. The rush of teeth. Through his eyelashes, blonde bobbed up and down, drawing strands of lava from his core and up his member. Teeth grazing his glands opened the gates, built-up heat rushing his flared tip. Before he could warn her, his hips stuttered as short bursts of arousal squirted into her mouth.

"So-Sorry," Shayne said.

"For? Mmmm," Courtney swiveled around. Wiping her mouth clean, she draped herself across Shayne's chest. Fingers marched over his scorched skin to toy with his lips as she listened to his heart. "Ba-boom, ba-boom." She marked each beat, fingertips tapping out a matching rhythm. "You got a little drummer in there. I excite him, don't I?"

"What do you think?" Shayne swallowed. Courtney's features distorted into Cor-Cor's innocence, her relaxed daze contorting into a pouty smile.

"You're seeing her, aren't you?" Knuckles caressing his cheek broke his hallucination.

"I'm sorry, I..." Shayne pressed his lips together.

"It's okay. I can tell in the way your face changes. Softens. The heat fades." She dipped in for a kiss. "But you know what I didn't see?"

A melancholy smile marred her face.

"Fear. I didn't see fear."

**_Yeah, 'cause you apparently just gave it all to me, Fuckwad. Christ, this is weird._ **


	36. Courtney

Laughter and music resounded through the walls of Ian's house, clogging every nook and cranny as his impromptu New Year's party roared at full volume. Co-workers, friends, and family littered the hardwood floors, cliques clumping together in conversation.

Rounds of congratulations followed wherever Shayne and Courtney ventured. Smiling faces and awkward jokes. Some more exuberant than others, but most happy to learn of their budding relationship. Sarah's warning stood out as the only pushback, but Courtney had just shrugged it off. A potential fallout placed last on a laundry list of worries, their whole parallel universe debacle taking center stage.

Though both still agreed that the world remained off-limits, coming out to the Smosh family had at least alleviated the stress lying burdened them with. One less lie to worry about. One less problem nagging at their sides. A resolution that Shayne had accepted with just some slight coaxing. A surprising feat, what with how challenging persuading him to go had been.

Ian's last-minute invitation had snowballed from a heated discussion to a full-blown argument, Shayne's protective nature merging with Alternate Shayne's possessiveness. Together, they morphed into control. At least, that was how Courtney perceived it. In truth, his worry sprouted from soil rich in reason and fertilized with a history of prior parties ending in alcohol-fueled mistakes. His compulsion to protect made perfect sense to her rationale, but rationale had deserted her. Now fear was in control.

And fear distorted truth.

It had since the overlaps began, and Alternate Shayne's words rushed in.

_'I've been struggling to tell you two apart.'_

Now every action big and small carried that lens, and ambiguity skewed her world.

 _Is that happening for you too?_ Courtney wondered, gazing up at Shayne as he ushered her through clusters of familiar faces scattering the hallway leading to Ian's living room. Head on his shoulders, she hung off his side, arms around his neck. Lifting on her toes to kiss his neck, she stumbled forwards, his grip on her middle the only thing keeping her from falling.

"Careful, Angel." Shayne paused mid-hallway, the hand on her waist tightening. He flattened her front against him, smirking. "Those two shots hit you kinda hard, didn't they?"

"I'm fine, Shayne. I'm not even drunk," Courtney said, pulling away. Arms out and on her toes, she walked a straight-line with ease. "Just wasn't looking where I was going, that's all."

"It's just—"

"When I promised you that I wouldn't overdo it, I meant it. I know my limits, and three, let alone two drinks is well below it." Courtney nestled under his wing, fingertips toying with his chest. He tensed under her touch. "Maybe a drink would loosen you up?"

"Someone's gotta drive." Shayne spun, pressing her against the wall as a few people walked by. Instead of withdrawing like she expected, weight immobilized her. "Plus, if I'm drunk, who's gonna watch over you?"

_Watch over? I'm not a kid._

Forgetting about his new colored contacts, Courtney inspected his blue eyes and frowned. No darkening rings to indicate from whom this dominance originated. No play of light to distinguish who he saw. No, plastic irises shrouded emotion from her, making it impossible to detect his overlapping.

Downfalls to her solution that anticipation failed to catch. Downfalls Alternate Shayne's emerging mannerisms worsened. Downfalls she withheld to preserve his equilibrium.

"Angel, is everything okay?" He combed her locks back, tone gentle and brimming with unfiltered concern. Hers.

"I just wish you could relax, that's all." She smiled, coiling her arms around him. Fingertips traced squiggles across the scruff covering the nape of his neck. A short gasp hitched her breath as he pressed himself against her and stole a kiss. This. This dominance, however, it proved one of the advantages Shayne's new fearlessness had to offer despite its numerous shortcomings.

"If you let me take you home, I'm sure you can help me find other ways to relax, Love." Shayne swooped in for another hasty kiss.

"Love?" Courtney squeaked, but the blaring music overpowered her voice.

"Come on," Shayne said, pulling back. "We're trying to find Damien, right?" Swooping an arm around her waist, Shayne all but carried her as he escorted Courtney towards the living room. Evading the swarms of drunken bodies too unware to notice their surroundings.

A cooler squatting at the threshold between the hall and living room caught Courtney's eye. _Might as well grab one now, instead of having to get up later._ Extracting herself, she stepped towards the ice chest, but broad fingers circling her wrist yanked her back.

"I thought you said you'd take it slow." Disapproval coated his concern. _Stop treating me like I don't know what I'm doing._

"It's my third drink in what? Two hours? I'll be fine, Shayne. I have you to protect me." She wiggled free, kneeling at the cooler. Various beers poked out from the melting ice. A quick rummage revealed nothing else, the chest's murky depths void of any wine coolers or hard lemonade. Beer in hand, Courtney crashed into Shayne's chest upon turning around.

"Courtney, you sure you want to?"

"I'm a big girl, Shayne," Courtney said, popping the top off with the string-attached bottle opener. "Plus, you already set my limits." She waggled the bottle at him. "Last drink, remember?" The second she finished speaking, Shayne hauled Courtney against him. Fingertips slipped just beneath the waistband of her leggings. She shivered. _Do you recognize what you're doing?_

"Just don't leave my sight, okay?" He muttered into her hair. She fought the urge to shove him off. The need for space building by the minute. For now, her desire for his warmth prevailed, tempering her agitation as he escorted her to the couch. Snagging her beer, he set it on the coffee table.

"Hey!" Courtney furrowed her brow, but Shayne hooked his arm around her stomach and flopped onto the couch. Hip to hip, her back against his chest, his hand crossed her abdomen to sneak up her shirt and stroke her ribcage. She capped his hand, prying it off.

"I'm sorry. I'm overdoing it, aren't I?" A tenderness polished his cadence, realization, and hints of remorse. The panic and self-doubt that usually hastened his words together absent. Certainty. Another benefit his fear-free brain allotted. No worrying about sending him over. About him overthinking. About him running. No, he processed things before it reached that far, though she hesitated to test her luck.

"Just a bit." Twisting at the waist, Courtney draped herself across his chest. Her stomach clenched upon heeding his posturing. One arm sprawled across the top of the sofa, body language proud and arrogant like he owned the room. _Do you realize how you've changed?_

She suspected fear fulfilled a crucial role in filtering out Alternate Shayne's mannerisms. Though a shameful portion of her queried if these quirks belonged to her Shayne, and fear had simply barred them from surfacing. _Ridiculous, don't be stupid._

Shaking it off, Courtney listened to his heart. Tranquil, rhythmic beats pounded in her ear. Steady breathing. His calming embrace. Everything faded. Previous mistakes fleed her mind, this carefree moment indulging her nostalgia.

Behind his excessive protection, beyond Alternate Shayne breaching his behavior, hints of the old Shayne overrode her fear. The quiet reassurances he mumbled into her hair. The bravery, confidence, and safety he exuded. Another reason she overlooked the negatives his fearlessness produced. Without fear, pieces of his old self shined through, and peace softened his features.

"Yo! Look who's finally decided to show up, Buddy!" Damien dropped down next to them, disrupting their reprieve. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" His exuberant smile drooped the longer he inspected them. _You see it too, fuck._

"That is Shayne, right?" he asked Courtney.

"Do you really think I'd cheat?" Courtney snapped.

Shayne soothed her waist, planting a kiss on top of her blonde tresses as if to hush her.

"Hey now! I did read about that proposal, and with how—"

"Damien!" Courtney whisper-shouted before he burst Shayne's bubble. His lack of reaction both unsettled and relieved her. While Shayne disregarding Damien's implication presented a basket full of troubles, the fact that he refrained from cutting in and conducting the discussion flayed a layer of his patronizing off her back.

"What? I was just saying that—"

"You and me? Talk now." Courtney stared Damien down until he nodded with a gulp and scrambled to his feet. Attention diverted to Shayne, she thumbed his lower lip. "I'll be right back, I promise." With a peck to his lips, she launched to her toes and seized her unfinished drink from the tabletop. She guzzled it before putting the now empty bottle down.

Starting towards the hallway, she glanced at Damien over her shoulder and said, "you coming?"

Passing the cooler once more, Courtney plucked another beer from it, desperate to assuage the agitation grating her nerves. It earned a pointed look from Damien. Her scowl sealed his lips. _Your trust in me is laughable._

Silence marked the rest of their route to an off-limits guest room, but Courtney figured Ian wouldn't mind. A duvet-covered bed laid against the back wall, a few framed prints hanging above it. Typical and unordinary.

"You mind telling me—" Damien started before she could close the door. Leaving it open, Courtney trudged over until just a couple of feet separated them.

"He doesn't know." Courtney toed the ground, refusing to meet Damien's glare.

"What do you mean he doesn't know? Don't you think you should tell him?" His words pierced her heart, dismantling the resolve her fear-driven anger established.

"I'm going to, I am. I just... A lot's happened since we spoke, since that Glimpse..." She plopped onto the mattress.

"And that makes lying to him okay?"

"I know it's wrong. I do, but this... For once, he's the one worrying about me instead of the other way around. I mean yeah, he's a little... excessive about it, but..." Courtney knocked her bottle against the bed frame before bringing it to her lips. A long pull fizzled down her throat. "It's nice to be able to breathe. I just don't want to shatter this."

"Good, great, so my best friend gets to ruin his reputation in front of all of our co-workers because you want to breathe?" Damien tugged at his hair as he paced. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's just... I texted you last night, you know, about the meeting? No response, not even a 'K.' And between that journal entry and seeing this Frankenstein version of my best friend walking around, maybe you could try to keep me in the loop a little more? I'm getting kinda worried."

"We haven't exactly been at our phones." Courtney clamped her lips, heat flushing her cheeks. "Sorry." She shrugged with a meek grin.

"Great, just great. While I'm busy working my butt off trying to fix this shit, you're more concerned with getting laid?"

"I'm sorry, alright?" Courtney stood up, the bottle dangling from her fingers. Static rustled against her eardrum. Too fleeting and faint to hold promise. _Just your imagination. Not drunk enough for that._ "Kinda got a clock chasing our backs, and just want to make the best of it before its too late." —Damien's face fell with understanding.— "Look, can we just drop this before the night's ruined? I promise to fill you in at the meeting, on everything, okay?"

"Fine, but you still need to tell him." Damien pressed.

"Tell me what?" Shayne's voice sounded from behind her. Courtney froze, a deer in headlights. Too scared to confront him, she downed the rest of her drink.

Static hissed.

"I think I'll take my leave." Damien patted her shoulder, leaning in. "Tell him, or I will," he whispered in her ear before walking away. She heard the door close then the clicking of the lock.

Warm hands snaking around her stomach startled Courtney before comfort surmounted shock's post. Palms flattened down her abs to find purchase on her hips as Shayne curled himself around her. Tucking his head next to hers, his mouth brushed the shell of her ear.

"If this about Alternate Shayne's mannerisms showing," he said, nipping below her ear. "I know, and I don't care. Just working off your reactions, Angel. No need to worry."

"Are you mad that I —"

**_I-I n-need he-help. I need help. I need help. I need help._ **

Panic drenched Alternate Courtney's words, but Courtney brushed it off. The same three words recited over and over. A mantra more aligned with pleading to the Gods than calling to her. Unnerving, but not her problem. Though the foreign fright ripping through Courtney's form persisted, sharp pins vibrating just under her skin.

"Left my sights?" he questioned when silence lingered. "That you're still drinking?" He snagged the empty from her hand and tossed it in a nearby bin. "You don't even like beer." Teeth scraped her neck, fingers crawling her ribcage to cup her breast. A stifled whimper arched her neck. "But I know a way you can make it up to me." _Please._

**_P-pl-please I'm begging. Someone help. I need help._ **

_Kinda busy here._

**_Y-y-you're d-d-d-drunk enough t-to he-hear me? T-that means..._ **

_Really wish I wasn't. Can't you, I don't know, call Dames-Dames or something?_

"Angel, speak to me." Shayne steered her around to face him. "Is everything okay?"

"Sorry, just..." Courtney pressed her lips, propping her forehead on his chest. Fingers burrowed in his shirt, balling up the material. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Foreign desperation. Foreign fear. It raged with an ominous intensity that sank her gut and constricted her intestines.

**_H-e-e... I-I-I can't. T-this... I can't h-handle this. I... I need you to take over. Take over, before I lose him._ **

_Lose him? What did you do?_

**_I don't know. He j-j-just on-one m-minute things were f-f-fine. Then... Ple-pl-please. I don't know what to do._ **

A shrill spike of foreign reverberated through her body, splitting her lips in a ragged sob.

"I can hear her," she blubbered into his chest. "I can hear her, and he needs me."

"Hey, it's okay," Shayne hushed as he guided her to the bed. Suddenly, she was in his lap. Arms winded around his neck and face buried in his collar, she counted her breaths until sobs faded into sniffles. "Angel, you don't have to cry. Whatever it is, you can handle it. I know you can. Maybe, I was a bit of an ass tonight. But can you blame me? I just wanted to protect my girlfriend for once. You know, since its been you always sheltering me?"

**_Hurry. I.. He ... Please, I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this._ **

Fingertips slotted through her hair, trailing waves of comfort across her lithe frame. Tilting her head up, she hiccuped.

"I have to go, Shayne. I have to go there. She's begging me to take over, and fuck."

"It's okay. I'll be here to watch over you," Shayne said, dipping in to claim her mouth in a drawn-out kiss. Passion, devotion, trust, it all poured into her. Melting her body into him. "I'll text Damien to bring another beer or a shot?"

"Just don't leave me."


	37. Courtney

  
  
  
.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Static simmered. Her soul slotting into place with ease. The hole it had left behind waiting for its return. What had once taken minutes now took only seconds, her senses establishing and the numbness fading away.

The faint thrums of pleasure hummed from her core, a pulsating heat originating from within her unmentionables. Fire overthrew the last remnants of static that still clung to her throat. With its disappearance came clarity and the unveiling of the source.

_WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A DICK INSIDE ME? INSIDE YOU? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, IF YOU THINK... I AM NOT HELPING YOU FUCK YOUR BOYFRIEND._

**_I didn't think it was important, okay? Just don't speak, or you might—_ **

_Might what? Give your boyfriend the wrong message? Get you in trouble? Whatever you think you're doing. Stop, just stop._

**_If you'd just quit thinking so loud and listened—_ **

_I'm sorry, but I am not listening to your boy moan._

**_That isn't—_ **

_You know, when I pictured having Shayne's dick inside me for the first time, I kinda figured it would have belonged to mine._

**_It's not my fault you haven't—_ **

_Not your fault? NOT YOUR FAULT? YOU COULD HAVE, I DON'T KNOW, WARNED ME? GOTTEN OFF HIS LAP?_

**_But I like being filled, and it keeps me... Me... It helps me not stutter, and I thought staying on would make talking to you easier and—_ **

_Easier for you, maybe. You know sex actually means something to me._

**_I CALLED YOU HERE FOR HIM. FOR HIM. AND IF YOU'D JUST OPEN YOUR EARS. HE'S NEVER DONE THIS, AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO._ **

Green eyes rolled behind eyelids, but Courtney humored her. Tuning into the noise contaminating her surroundings, she swallowed, stomach plummeting to the ground.

Ragged sobs spluttered in sporadic bursts. Broken and strangled gasps for air that accompanied hot liquid splattering her back. Muffled words too water-clogged to understand quaked the mattress cushioning her folded knees.

_You're telling me that you don't know how to handle him crying? You've been together how long?_

**_He's never cried, okay? Not in front of me, at least. Never in front of me. I'm... I'm not good at this stuff. I can hardly stay myself on my good days. He..._ **

_Unbelievable. You really are helpless, aren't you?_

Opening her eyes, Courtney noted bare knees, straddling his hips. Fields of black-patterned sheets led to a closed closet door. Little white cartoon rabbits dotted them, each wore a crooked-red bowtie and a unique-offbeat expression. Their contorted features bored into her soul, buck-toothed sneers howling as pocket watches twirled on their oversized paws. She blinked until grimaces shifted into care-free smiles.

_Bunny sheets?_

**_They're his favorites._ **

Pocketing this information for later, Courtney refocused on the situation.

A warm weight curled around her nude form, molding her frame so that her spine rounded and a veil of blonde shielded her bowed features. It thwarted any attempts at sitting up, Alternate Shayne blanketing her back. It anchored her; his front flattened against her back, and head propped on her neck. An unintentional scoot ripped a whimper from her mouth as he moved inside her.

"I can't do it. I can't, Dollface. I can't," he blubbered into the nape of her neck. Quivering. Broken. A downpour of neverending tears. Fragility clearly alien to Alternate Shayne but familiar to her. "Can't give you what you want. Just a worthless fucking piece of shit." A wet gasp tore his lips. "Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't leave." His mantra devolved into indecipherable mumbling. Choked words drenched in anguish.

_Christ, this is bad. You must know something that calms him down._

**_If he... If he knows it's you, he'll flip. He'll think..._ **

_I'll pretend I'm you then. Just... What relaxes him? ...Besides sex._

**_I don't know, okay? He's the caregiver, not me. I just... I'm not that, which means pretending to be me isn't an option. Plus, trust me when I say this. The second you speak... The second you move, he'll know it's you, and... He... There's no consent to this. I mean, you seem to be handling it just fine. A little angrier than I expected, but... But he doesn't know that... He'll never forgive himself._ **

_Well, I can't just sit here and let him spiral._

**_...Spiral?_ **

_This? This meltdown? It belongs to me, to mine. But you already knew that, didn't you?_

Silence responded.

Desperate for something to explain this downward spiral, Courtney scanned the room. Lace on the floor answered.

_For the love of God, please don't tell me you thought that you could fuck this all away?_

**_It helps me! I thought maybe, it would help him too, okay? The last few days... He started getting weird, and I'm not good with emotional things, not the heavy stuff. My own brain, it gets too much for me sometimes, and I... I broke, and he tried to... He fixed me... But he's..._ **

_Struggling to tell us apart?_

**_The lace was supposed to help him along, and I got my way... But he thought... He saw you, and... I tried telling him it was okay. That it was fine, but..._ **

_What if I hadn't heard you? What were you planning on doing then?_

**_I don't know, okay? I don't know._ **

"Don't panic," Courtney said, her tone gentle and welcoming. Testing the waters.

Muscles tensed underneath her, his disjointed breath ceasing and weepings cutting away. The sheets pulled into thin folds, rabbits overlapping into fragmented smirks as he clenched his fists. Incessant trembling reverberated into her with the intent to overflow.

"It's okay," she whispered, rolling her hips for emphasis. Pleasure wrenched a stifled moan from her throat, but she gulped it down.

Seconds lengthened to minutes before an exhale restarted his tears, and the crumpled sheets slumped into shallow wrinkles.

"She made a mistake. Well, we both kinda made a mistake. You were right; we think alike in that sense." Grabbing his hands, Courtney fitted them around her thighs. "She still feels this. She's still in here. I've got her; she's safe."

"She should hate me." Alternate Shayne squeezed before running his hands up her hips to clutch her waist. Hoisting Courtney off, he set her on his lap. Lips clamped tight, she tried her hardest to ignore his length against her back as his grip settled on her knees. "I hate me." His body cloaked her once more, a fresh cascade of salt drenching her skin.

Sighing, Courtney maneuvered around until disheveled-blonde locks, now propped on her chest, greeted her. Lithe fingers curved around his jawline, stubble pricking her palms as she tilted his face to her.

Her stomach churned.

Fear stared straight through her, whites overtaking his jumbled corneas. Unlike Shayne's, light blue infiltrated the edges of Alternate Shayne's irises, compromising their usual darkened shade still present around his pupils.

"How can she love this? Corrupted, he's corrupted me." Saliva clogged his tongue, words wet with slobber. An ugly mess of snot and tears.

Soothing his jowls, she pressed her lips to his brow.

"Stop being dumb," Courtney murmured against him. "She loves you more than anything. I feel it in my bones. Just the memory overwhelms with passion, devotion, love. I've never felt anything like it, really. This burning, unconditional love. The girl is crazy for you. Madly and insanely in love with you."

"In who I used to be."

"Wrong again. Really missing the mark, huh?" She guided his ear to her heart. Dainty fingertips raked through blades of blonde grass, tidying in a steady back-and-forth rhythm. "I know it backfired, but she was thinking of you. Trying to make it better, in her own way." A kiss to his hair reassured.

_You think you could handle this?_

**_I can barely handle myself._ **

_Well, now's a good time to learn. When they switch, my boy... He's a lot more fragile than yours. Just you throwing yourself at him will set him off. You need to use words._

**_Words don't hold promise, actions do._ **

"You know she called me here?" Courtney escorted his gaze to her once more. "Lucky I was drunk enough to hear her, but that's another story." A chuckle tumbled from her lips as Courtney cleared the tears cascading down his cheeks. Salt-caked thumbs transversed to his temples, mending thin creases with purposeful circles.

Streams tapered into thin trickles, his irregular breath evening into a shaky rhythm. The bounces heaving his chest diminished into tiny hops that —in time— dispersed their spacing until barely noticeable. Alternate Shayne inhaled into a muted coughing fit that teeth jailed.

"Hiding will only make it worse," Courtney said, shaking her head as he gagged on air. Another deep breath steadied him. "Told you so." —A singular laugh escaped him.—"Listen to me." Leaning her forehead against his, she locked eyes with him, his cheeks sandwiched between her palms. "It's going to be okay. This, what your feeling, it isn't yours; it's new. You'll learn to cope.

"You're strong and intelligent, a bit of prick sometimes, but that doesn't matter," she continued, closing her sights and saturating her lungs. "You'll learn, but you need to teach her. What will she do when my boy breaks while taking care of her? I can't always be there to take over."

"I'll figure something out, Doll," Alternate Shayne said, burying his face in her neck. Large hands coasted up Courtney's waist, calloused pads denting her ribcage. "And thank you for saying yes." Thumbs sketched oblong shapes into sensitive skin, warmth permeating and rushing straight to Alternate Courtney. It washed Courtney in a foreign comfort that surged as flat palms glided around her midriff to fan across her shoulder blades.

"She really doesn't get jealous, does she?" Courtney mused when his sad, salty kisses to her neck kindled Alternate Courtney's relief.

"Our one source of friction, but I suppose she won that too." A melancholy laugh chopped the air, tickling her skin. Sloping back, Alternate Shayne caressed her waist, following her hour-glass figure and dodging her most intimates to tug on the corners of her mouth. Blue orbs honed in on her green pools. "You always find a way, don't you?"

Swimming in his polluted oceans, Courtney drowned in the lighter regions embellishing Alternate Shayne's blended-blue irises. The speckled-light shimmered, pieces of Shayne that past Glimpses had left behind. Without thinking, Courtney danced her fingertips over his overgrown stubble until a feather-light touch traced the outline of his eyes.

Green plunged into the vulnerability swirling through his navy depths. Raw emotion she had grown to love in her Shayne. It deluded her with mirages. Desire breaching sight. Lost in illusion, she failed to notice her thumb now toying with his lower lip.

"I know I look more like him than myself these days, but I'm not him, Love." Alternate Shayne seized her hand and placed it on the bed. "Don't want you doing something you'll regret."

"It's a little late for that." Courtney dismounted his lap, plopping onto her back next to him.

He joined her, sprawling out in a 'T' formation.

Palming around the bed, Courtney acquired a handful of sheets and draped the rabbit-coated cotton over their naked forms.

**_Don't... Don't do that. I like his warmth, and blankets just get in the way._ **

_Deal with it. When you're back in control, you can be as naked as you want._

Foreign anger surged through her veins, but stronger panic and anxiety —both foreign— chased it.

The loss of skin contact eviscerated, its retraction stealing oxygen until her lungs threatened to collapse. It hollowed Courtney, constricting her intestines and forcing her to cave. Cuddling up against him, she slung her arm across his chest as her ear nestled against his heart.

"Your girl didn't warn me about..." Courtney circled the tented sheets situated around his groin. "Might want to teach her about boundaries as well."

"Fuck, it was never supposed to go like this." Frustration and dejection strapped his tone, a large breath expanding his chest. Carding through her hair, blonde ends looped around his knuckles. Tiny little coils that swung from finger to finger.

"Together till the end of time." He swept his calloused pads down her arm, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. Hoisting her left hand in the air, he singled out her ring finger. The diamond adorning it glimmered in the light. "We haven't even exchanged our vows. Just rings and promises."

"You can elope, you know?" Courtney withdrew her hand, cadence brightening. "No big fancy wedding. Find a courthouse and sign some papers. No biggie."

"And if I don't return? If..." Tears threatened to reemerge, salt dripping from his breath. "If this mess of ours ends with me stranded on your side? If the link connecting us disintegrates...How can I leave her married to another's mind?"

"We're going to stop this." Regret infiltrated her body the second the sentiment escaped. _It's too late for that, Dummy._ To apologize, she nested her noggin in the crook of his neck, her delicate digits tapping an aimless beat against his collarbone. Alternate Shayne snaked an arm underneath her and wrapped it around her waist.

"It's too late for that, Doll. FUCK, you see it. The eyes. This stupid fucking fear." He dug his fingers into his face, stretching the flesh around his eye sockets and cheeks. It failed to prevent a ragged sob from bursting the seam of his lips as his arm flopped against the mattress. "It's just a matter of time."

"Then we'll find a way to swap you two back." Ensuring a layer of cotton divided them, Courtney adjusted herself to lay more on top of him. Lithe digits scampered across plains of muscle until they curled around his collar. She leveraged her grip to scoot further up until green leveled with blue. "I'll fix this. We'll fix this. You'll be back with her again in no time."

"And what if—"

"Stop thinking about what if's. They don't help things." She cradled his cheek. "And you won't be separated from her completely."

"Only if our bond lasts. Only if it endures the transition."

"What did I tell you about what ifs?" She cleaned the salty spheres leaking from his murky lakes, a weak simper on her lips. "It'll be okay. She'll be okay."

"And him?" Alternate Shayne tidied her hair back. "If this, if what I'm feeling is his..."

"He'll stay strong for her, but he has limits. She needs... She needs to learn how to handle this. I need you to teach her." Courtney swallowed. "She'll be his only lifeline when I'm not visiting. As I'll be yours.

"Just don't boss me around, okay?" A sad smile twisted her face. "The only place I like that is in the bedroom." It toppled from her mouth, evading her thoughts in order to breach the air. She rushed to save herself. "Sometimes, just sometimes. And with him, not—"

"Hush. It's okay, Doll." His thumb sealed her mouth. "This isn't exactly how I envisioned this talk happening. Kinda figured I'd be in your world, or at least, with clothes on, but now is as good as ever, I suppose." A large inhale inflated his chest. "I need to know what you expect of me when I get there."

"Expect of you? You're telling me the big bad..." She paused, furrowing her brow. _What do I call you?_ "Topp? God, that's cheesy."

"I like the cheese, but I'm not a top, Love. I'm a... Wait for it." A corny grin spread from ear to ear, the remnants of tears gleaming in his mismatched-blue orbs. Leftover puddles adhered to the lower rims of his eyes.

"How I met your mother? Really?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"Switch, I'm a switch. " —Courtney just blinked at him in disbelief. — "I play both roles? A bottom and a Topp?" He popped the 'P'.

"Jesus Christ, I'm about to be stuck with the cheesiest version of Shayne there is." Courtney flopped onto her back. Beaming, she turned to look at him. Scarlet scorched her cheeks upon discovering his mangled blues bolted to her.

"Maybe you should stock up on crackers then." He laughed, a tooth-showing smile gracing his features.

**_He'll... He'll be safe with you... Safe with you. Thank you... For bringing him back... Back to me._ **

"I think you let that daddy role of yours go to your head, Bunny Boy." Courtney backhanded his stomach. Rotating her wrist, she trailed her index finger through the coarse patches of dirty blonde spotting his midline.

"Bunny Boy?" Alternate Shayne smirked, a canine spearing his lower lip.

"Got anything better?" She fingered the dip between his pecs, drilling her pointer into the nest of curls. He snatched her hand.

"Call me whatever you want," he said, yanking her on top of him. She yelped but stayed put. "And while I'm there, I'll let you take the reins."

Staring down at him, Courtney tracked the laughter lines framing his mouth and creasing his orbs. The sky blue that mingled with his irises' darkened centers shined, little pulses sparkling in the light. For a fleeting moment, nostalgia latched onto it, bestowing her with adoration and devotion that belonged to her Shayne. It snuck in, overriding her inhibition.

Dipping down, Courtney stole a kiss. Short and brief. It progressed further as he slid his forearm into the curve of her lower back. Fleeting caresses morphed into long and languid exchanges. Chapped lips moved against velvet flesh. Sandpaper scratching glossy silk flayed her bare, uncovering a raw lust that flourished in his unique taste.

His sheet-covered cock strained against her thigh, and static pierced her skin.

_Take me._  
  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Static dissolved into an all-encompassing warmth that diffused through her chest and over her body. The faint melodic tones of music filtered through the air. It competed with the quick but steady heartbeat thumping in her ear.

Broad digits parted a golden curtain into thin ribbons of blonde, their tips grazing her cheek every now and then. Comfort rippled through her body, billowing fondness quieting her rapid-firing nerves. Quiet reassurance vibrating through her scalp aided its relief, little droplets of love raining from his lips. Shayne's lips. The polished edges of his timber told her so. _I don't deserve this._

Lifting her gaze, dark edges bled into sky-blue centers that smiled at her. Guilt shredded her shriveling constitution, nervous greens avoiding the tender concern aimed at her in favor of darting her sights around the room. Confusion weaved into the chaotic jumble churning her gut as familiarity greeted her burred vision. _This isn't...?_

"You're awake," Shayne said, affection pouring from his tongue. "We're home, in my room. Damien covered for us, acted as lookout while I carried you to the car." Brushing her hair back, Shayne framed her forehead with his thumbs, drawing her in and planting an emotion-filled kiss on her skin. One hand traveling to support her cheeks, the other skimmed down her shoulder. Slotting his arm into the valley of her lower back, Shayne crushed her body against him until only an invisible layer of atoms remained between them. "Before you went fully unconscious."

"Naked?" Courtney asked, her leg slipping between his sparked a rush of pure relief. The kind that only skin contact provided. Glancing down, she discerned that only her peach panties and his black briefs separated them. It eased the strain Glimpsing had on her body, the detriments hardly registering.

"I remembered how much skin contact helped when I returned... I thought... I'm sorry, I—"

"I kissed him." Saliva sprayed from her lips to slather his pecs and join the waterfall of tears gushing from her submerged greens. Body wracking cries overwhelmed, and his tightening embrace only fueled the remorse seeping from every pore. "And they were fucking or trying to. I Glimpsed onto his dick, Shayne. He was crying, and his eyes... They were like yours. Things just got fuzzy. You. Him. God, he got so cheesy. Things just felt like old times, and I couldn't... I couldn't tell. I leaned in, and I... Don't hate me. Please don't ha—"

"I love you." Shayne cut her off.

Courtney froze. _No, no, no, no, no, no. You didn't. You can't. How. You. Don't._

"How can you say that? Didn't you hear me? I kissed him, Shayne. He didn't kiss me. I did. I initiated it." Anger threaded through the pockets that her tears alotted. "I kissed him." The sensation of Alternate Shayne's chapped lips rasping hers still haunted, the taste of spice-infused smoke lingering longer than it had any right to.

"I know, and I love you." Warmth enveloped her jaw, calloused pads gliding across her lower lip. "You remember the last time it happened? Two weeks, you ghosted me for two weeks, and we weren't even dating. The fact that I didn't even have to ask you this time." Shayne stole a kiss, injecting her with his honest devotion. "I love you, Courtney. I love how far you've come. I love your honesty."

"No, no, no, no, you don't mean it. How can you mean it? You're just reacting, or, fuck, that's your fearlessness speaking. You can't... I kissed him, Shayne. And I—" He held a finger to her mouth.

"Go to the closet and grab the bear I made you," Shayne ordered. Despite the remorse weighing her, his bossiness sowed seeds of anger deep within. Little sprouts poking from dirt riddled with guilt, they climbed the mounds of despair to surmount her tears.

"The bear? Really, Shayne?" Courtney sniffled, rubbing the salty residue away with the back of her hand.

"Trust me, you'll understand."

"Fine, but I don't see what this has to do with anything." Courtney scrambled off of him with a huff. Pain spiked her body at the lack of skin contact, his heat concealing the aftershocks of her Glimpse. Throwing on her best poker face, she stomached the building agony growing from her gut. _I deserve it. Don't deserve his warmth. Even if he says it, he doesn't mean it. Just reactionary. Just a reaction._

Wrenching the closet door open, she snatched the unopened box. The bear knocked against its blue and white cardboard walls. Thumping against it with each step towards Shayne now sitting on the edge of the bed. Dropping it at his feet, she glared at him. "It's just a bear. I should know, I picked it out."

"Just open it, will you?"

"Why? So you can lie and say you love me again?" The cardboard tore under her hand as she heaved the handle apart, forgoing the premade hooks securing it together.

"It's not a lie," Shayne stated with confidence that shivered her spine.

"I cheated, Shayne. I don't care what you say, I cheated, and I kissed him, and you shouldn't love me." Her conviction drained from her voice the longer she spoke, anger returning to an insecure rambling that verged on breaking into tears. Courtney jerked the brown bear from the box and shoved it at him. "This is just the fearlessness talking, Shayne. You. You can't love me. Not after this. Not after what I did."

"Press its paw," Shayne commanded, holding the bear out for her. He waggled the mitt in question. "Press it for me?"

Raising an eyebrow, she entertained him.

The artificial fur scraped her spiraled flesh, uneven ends tangling underneath her grip. Securing her thumb and pointer around the paw, she expected the material to squish with ease, the cotton-fluff filling pliable and spongy. Instead, she encountered a hard and flat surface. Compressing the rectangular box, she held her breath.

"I love you, Courtney. I love you, and I'm coming back to you." A mechanical recording echoed from the bear, the voice unmistakable. It belonged to Shayne. _You were sick. You were sick and scared, and... You were scared._

"When did you... How... I thought..." The bear plummetted to the floor as Courtney launched herself at Shayne, crashing into him with a momentum that propelled him further back on the mattress. Limbs latched to him, claws drilling crevices in his back to hook onto and heels spurring into his butt. Uncomfortable yet perfect. Relief flooded her as she layered his neck in open-mouthed affection.

"Last minute addition." Shayne nudged her off, palms soothing up her neck to frame her face. Stooping in, he captured her mouth with a tenderness that inundated her system and scared the guilt away. Fire blazed at full-force. Its flames paralleled the love that Alternate Courtney exuded for Alternate Shayne. _Too soon. Too_ — "I love you, Courtney. Far too much, far too soon. But I do. I love you."

"I don't deserve you." Nails etched her devotion into his back, teeth scraping his up his jaw to fasten to her earlobe. Thick fingers dived underneath her underwear to knead her ass. Retracting, Courtney fixed her eyes to his, her brow resting against his. "I don't deserve you, but I love you. I love you, Shayne. I love you too, Bear."


	38. Shayne

Water warped Courtney's nude silhouette as she curled atop his water-logged torso. Blonde-spiraled clouds skimmed the bath's surface, ends dancing across its stagnant depths. They followed the slight billows that the rise-and-fall of his chest produced. Soft and rhythmic, it informed Shayne of her slumber, which both relieved and unnerved.

After watching her toss and turn the entire night, the risks of falling asleep in the bathtub paled in comparison to the relief that her relaxation brought. Plus, she had him to protect her. At least for now.

Ripples broke the soapy film accumulating on the water as a faint whimper split her quivering lips. A far more pleasant sound than the wailing Shayne had woken up to. The aftermath of her Glimpse extending into the subsequent day. Searing pain. The reason for her inability to sleep that had left him with deep trenches carved under his eyes. Exhausted from watching over her. He now split his strength between tending to her and containing Alternate Shayne's instincts and mannerisms.

Though foreign jealousy still seethed within, grating his self-control into smithereens. Now, only a mesh screen of inhibition remained. Its microscopic holes allowed foreign to seep in, little black tendrils bidding him to claim Courtney and show her who she belonged to. 

For now, he prisoned the urge in the far depths of his mind where a fortified dungeon held the other assorted remnants of Alternate Shayne. One of the few benefits this new lack of fear allotted. The ability to process and sort through what did and didn't pertain to him. It just required mental energy on his part.

Another sleepy whine spluttered into the water, but eyelids still concealed her greens. Courtney rotated into him, balled up fists latching onto the sparse hairs littering his pecs. _Hush now._ Calloused fingertips leaped from vertebrae to vertebrae, a hovering touch too timid to administer pressure. The peaceful repose softening her features twisted into a wince.

"Hey, it's okay, I've got you. It will go away." The words floated off his tongue. Empty and weightless. Though concern subjugated the hurt her transgression had caused, it still plagued him, still dehydrated his emotional reservoir until a lake of dirt remained. A skeletal husk. A wireframe built on love but coated in conflict. Bare-boned emotions pulled on either side, opposing entities ripping him in two.

Love played judge and executioner, though concerns regarding its owner had started to emerge. Tints of foreign overlayed devotion originating from Shayne. For now, it stayed too insignificant to intimidate and too trivial to enact a bias to this competition of emotion.

On one team, betrayal and heartache staked their claim while on the other, her honesty and remorse joined forces with personal dilemmas.

_How can I be mad when it's only a matter of time before I do the same? Before I'm forced to._

With the pieces of Alternate Shayne's soul equaling to and almost even outnumbering his own, time constituted the sole determinant for when his role as Alternate Courtney's caretaker began.

_Suppose this is good practice for that still..._

Courtney breaching the platonic stipulation of their unwritten proposal presented a new qualm — the worry that Alternate Shayne's request would now encompass more than babysitting. That he percieved her violation as them agreeing to more than they desired.

_We haven't even formally set boundaries._

After placing a delicate kiss to her soaked noggin, Shayne nestled his nose in her freshly washed locks. His scent masked her unique fragrance, one of the many signifiers that differentiated Courtney from her Alternate. 

Despite the overlaps, despite the spontaneous nature of his Glimpses, he never struggled to distinguish them. Even without the collar, confusing the two resided well outside the realm of possibility. At least, he liked to believe that was true. So for her to blunder, when in control...

_Why didn't you tell me you were struggling sooner? What happened to your promise? Our promise?_

This stew of contention boiled below the surface, one-sided arguments and discussions whipping around his head. Fastened lips and a reinforced filter withheld the storm roaring inside. Another element that diminished his sleep-deprived energy reserves. Worries of shattering her fragile post-Glimpse condition seeded this decision with the guarantee of a meltdown that trampled last night's tantrum.

It seemed the bear proved nothing more than a temporary band-aid, and that morning's protests bolstered this. Strings of refusals and proclamations of low self-worth. It had overpowered the pain strangling her muscles as she fought him tooth and nail when he offered to help her bathe. A fight that persisted even after her attempt to stand left her a crumpled mess on the floor. He had ignored her hollow pleads for distance, desperate to keep her close.

Truth be told, if not for the ticking clock counting down his departure, he suspected his own desire for distance would have emerged. Inner turmoil necessitating time and space to think. Although fearlessness sped his emotional processing up, it still fumbled to disentangle this mess she made. Despite this, he ached to sustain Courtney's proximity, the pressure of time gluing her to him.

_I just want to cherish what time I have left._

Stirring redirected his attention. An arm stretched out past his face, flopping down so that her fingertips brushed the nape of his neck. They scampered across his jaw. Aimless. Unconcious, though no longer asleep. Open emeralds avoided him.

Cheek pressed to his heart, she zoned out towards the door as her breathing shallowed.

"Please tell me it's you." Her strangled voice echoed off the tile, producing surface-level bubbles that burst upon formation. "Please tell me if I look up, I won't see his eyes." Spirals dragged across his eyelids and hooked onto his lower lip.

"It's me, Angel. You've been back with me for a while. Did you forget?" Shayne clutched her wrist, thumb circling her palm as he inspected her pruned tips.

"Just scared." She refused to look at him still. "Just wishing this was a nightmare. That none of this is real."

Shayne sighed, releasing her hand in favor of tangling his fingers in her damp locks. He parted paths across her features, displacing their shield to expose skin. A broken sob chopping her breath halted his movements.

"C'mon, let's get you into bed." An arm curled around her waist prevented Courtney from gliding down his body as he straightened out, her form crushed against his chest close enough that her crying vibrated through him. Water splashed over the rim of the tub as he moved, pooling on the terrycloth floor-mat below. It flooded the cotton fibers and spilled across the tile.

Careful to support her without applying too much pressure, he aided Courtney out of the tub. Acting as a support to her shaky legs. A disordered mess of extremities flopped over, large hands guiding her to rest against the porcelain basin. The tail ends of her hair tiptoed across the bath's surface as she gathered her knees to her chest.

Limb by limb, Shayne exited the tub, swinging over the edge with ease. Shuffling over to the two different colored towels stacked on the sink, he tied the green one around his waist before snagging the blue cloth and returning to Courtney. 

Damp blonde curtained her features, sniffles now replacing ragged sobs as her breathing steadied out. Draping the navy fabric over her shivering shoulders, he knelt before her and knotted the cloth across her chest. With Courtney all bundled up in blue, he patted her dry with care.

"Does it still hurt?" Shayne asked, kneading her biceps.

Shaking her head 'no', Courtney denied him a verbal response, too focused on the ground, and determined to avoid.

_The tears and pain have stopped at least._

Securing his footing, Shayne tunneled his arm under her legs and wrapped the other around her back. Tension stiffened her body, muscles flexing, and breath ceasing before she burrowed her face in his chest. A soft but sad simper warmed his face as he stood up, hoisting her into the air.

Carrying her across the room, Shayne flicked the light switch off before exiting the bathroom. The hallway's wooden floorboards creaked with every step he took, disrupting the silence that marked the short journey to his bedroom. Neither party daring to speak, the only other sound emanated from Courtney. Her quiet whimpers deafened him.

Beaded fibers cushioned Shayne's feet as he crossed the threshold to his bedroom and hobbled to his bed. The mattress compressed under Courtney as Shayne set her down on its edge. With her quivering, he hurried to his bureau.

A few folded T-shirts filled the top drawer, its wooden bottom poking through. The majority of his shirt collection overflowed his laundry basket. With her indefinite stay and a lack of belongings, his wardrobe depleted twice as fast. Her wearing his clothes was worth the extra laundry, though.

Plucking the top-most shirt, Shayne threw the garment over her head. Disheveled golden curls popped out of the head-hole, some hairs standing up in various directions while others clung to her face. Thick fingerpads tided the stray strands, cleaning her face and aligning their ends.

Still evading his gaze, Courtney provided little assistance as Shayne recommenced dressing her. Limp arms becoming dead weight as he guided them through each armhole. Tender. Gentle. Brimming with warmth. Each display of kindness trembled her lower lip. It asphyxiated his heart, prompting Shayne to cradle her cheek and tilt her emeralds to him. She yanked herself free before making eye contact, recoiling into an upright fetal position.

"Courtney..." Shayne whispered, rising to his feet. Hesitation laced his touch as he deposited his hands on her shoulders. Withholding the urge to massage the knots stifling them, he squeezed once to reassure her. The frail cry that tumbled off her lips should have signaled him to stop, but Shayne persevered until a body-wracking sob quaked her figure.

"Why are you still here?" Courtney blubbered, forehead dropping to his abdomen. Lifting an arm, she hammered his chest. Weak. Resigned. Her fist slid down his torso until it pounded on his abs. Too soft to hurt. Too weak to send him away. "Should just let me drown."

"Don't you ever fucking say that," Shayne stated, tone harsher than intended. His knees crashed on to the carpet as he crushed Courtney against him. Determination neglected her writhing as she pushed and pulled in an attempt to escape his embrace. Persistence secured his arms around Courtney until her efforts desisted, and ragged sobs consumed.

"Don't you even ever fucking dare imply that." One hand attached to her back, Shayne clutched her face and shifted her sights to him. Red vines spidered her sclera, overflowing lakes cascading down her cheeks. Their zig-zagging streams coupled with saliva and snot that rained onto her lap. "Courtney, you—"

"Just let me go," she barked out, splattering his face. Shayne refrained from wiping it off, his grip on her tightening until she slumped against him. "You shouldn't be here. No, you should hate me, Shayne. Hate me like I hate me. Like I deserve."

"You made a mistake, Angel. I'm still here. I still—"

"I promised you, Shayne," Courtney choked out, the conviction in her voice dwindling.

The mention of her promise struck a nerve, words never said out loud but implied now nothing but particles. Shredded. Actions superseding words. Shayne grated his teeth, bitterness smearing his tongue. _You broke it. You fucking broke it._ He swallowed the foreign jealousy contaminating his system. It pulsed, erroding the edges between him and Alternate Shayne. An emulsion threatening to form.

"I promised... I promised you... I promised you." Her words wavered, rapid chanting on repeat colliding together in a hasty mess. Their repetition soured Shayne's ears, her inability to finish amplified by the feebleness strapping her tone. It resonated with Alternate Courtney, unsettling him though to a lesser degree.

Clutching Courtney to his breast, Shayne repositioned them so that his back tended against the headboard, and her body draped across his length.

"I promised you, Shayne. I promised you, and I... I don't deserve this." Courtney wrenched herself free, wheeling off of him. Aiming her back at him failed to disguise her tears, her entire body still quaking. Desperate to console, Shayne folded onto his side, inching closer with the intent of spooning her. She tensed upon him entering her space. "D-d-don't." Tears clogged her stutter.

"Courtney..." His fingers dallied on her waist, bunching up the forest-green cotton. The shirt rode up on her thighs, but she quickly tugged it down, elbowing his grip off in the process.

"Tell me you hate me," she wept, tone drenched, and cadence unstable. "Tell me you didn't mean it last night. Tell me what I felt was a lie."

"No." A whirlwind of movement landed Shayne on top of Courtney, her wrists pinned above her head. Clumps of damp blonde fanned across the pillow, haloing her features. It negated the globs of saliva-thickened tears snotting up her scarlet face.

"Tell me. Just tell me you hate me already."

"I can't."

"Why can't you? It's the truth, isn't it?" she sobbed. "Tell me it was all lie."

"I can't because it wasn't. Because..." Shayne paused, remembering her first meltdown and Alternate Shayne's advice. "Fuck it." Brutal force captured her mouth with a pressure verging on pain. Shayne funneled his emotions into her, praying the love raging through him overcame the contrasting jumble disquieting his equilibrium. "You feel that?"

Red, swollen lips hiccupped, tears trickling into lazy streams. Diminutive weepings chopped her breath. The rise-and-fall of her chest disordered and shallow.

"You can't. I—"

Dipping down once more, he claimed her mouth until she whimpered in a mix of pain and pleasure. Even then, he continued, lost in the salt crisping her taste. She reciprocated, testing caresses of lips meeting his domineering display. Timid but needy.

"Tell me you don't feel that, Courtney." Forehead to forehead, blue locked to green. Behind the film of tears, water-warped irises drowned him. Pure, raw, and unfiltered emotion. It constricted his heart, though her hesitant but noticeable nod loosened its grasp. "The one thing out of this conflict knotted inside me, the one thing I know. It's that I love you." She winced.

"Stop patronizing me, Shayne. Stop pretending like I didn't hurt you." Courtney bit out, averting her gaze away from him.

"You want to know the truth? I love you, but FUCK! What you did hurt." Conflict breached his tone, anger the triumphant sentiment. Foreign slipped its confines to ride its wake, dodging and weaving obstacle as it navigated towards liberation. Before Shayne could divert its course, it rasped his timber into gravel for a brief moment. Thankfully, she failed to notice. "It still hurts, Courtney.

"You stabbed me. And maybe last night, I was too stunned to process the pain, but that doesn't negate what I said." Teeth stealing a kiss emphasized his point. A whine split her mouth as he leaned back, brooks almost evaporated and breath shallow but steady. "I meant every fucking word, Courtney. All of it."

Her lithe frame arched up to him, whines no longer sorrowful. A non-verbal request his fingertips ached to grant but his heart and mind refused. The fact that Alternate Shayne's advice worked grieved him.

_I hate that you were right._

"Courtney, I..." He troubled his head. Virulence corroded his voice with a coarse finish, strengthening in volume as he spoke. "I'm still struggling to wrap my head around how you... FUCK." —He slammed her hands against the mattress.— "How you somehow mixed us up when you were there, Courtney. When you were over there—"

"I forgot, okay?" she confessed, honesty and remorse dripping from her tongue. Calloused fingers tightening around her wrists rewarded her. Impulse nipping at her neck. Shayne speared his teeth into her throat, refreshing the faded hickeys that branded her as his. "I saw your eyes, and I forgot."

Shayne jerked away, the mention of his eyes on his Alternate paralyzing him. It upped the pace counting down until he switched. A hitched breath alerted to his mistake, but shock prevented him from circumventing miscommunication, his lack of response taken as pure wrath, based on her fearful expression.

"I thought," Courtney whispered, tears moistening her speech. Her teary eyes distorted the softness calming her features. Wrinkles marring her complexion, she scrunched her eyes shut. "I thought he was you. I thought he was you. I thought he was you." His gut churned as Courtney sobbed on repeat.

"Courtney, look at me." He jammed his thumb into her palm.

"You." She reinforced the glue sealing her eyes, pinching them even tighter. "You. You've been overlapping. Seeing her in our world, yet you... You've never. You don't. You know." Her head thrashed back and forth as the ugly crying returned with vengeance. "You know. You know."

"Courtney." Unsure of how to proceed, Shayne retracted.

Her nails drilled into his knuckles, halting his attempt to pull back in a clear yet silent plea for him to stay. Her head shaking 'no' solidified it, and Shayne obliged, lowering himself until his bulk blanketed her. Muscles slackened under his weight, tension dissipating along with her now quieting sobs. Lacing their fingers, he peppered her with affection.

"You always tell us apart. And I doubted you." Courtney studied the ceiling, a glassy-eyed stare overtaking her. "I doubted you, Shayne. I thought... I thought you mixed us up and then went and fucking drank until I heard her. I did this. I Glimpsed myself onto his dick because I was too scared to tell you. I got scared and fucked him."

_Are you forgetting things now, or are you just lying to yourself?_

"You went there because she begged for you. You had no way of knowing. No way to predict it. Hell, I even helped you, remember?" Shayne bunched her wrists into one hand, freeing fingertips to stroke down her cheeks. "I just wished you would have told me. I could found a way to reassure you that I was me."

Thumbing her lower lip, he bent down for a taste. Tender and slow. Her insecurities radiated into him, the remorseful anguish mangling his nerves. Broken. Shattered. Fragmented. Reminiscence of her last Glimpse. An emergent pattern emptied his lungs.

_If you visit me there, he'll see this._

"Fuck, you are never going back there. Never. Not while I'm still here." Shayne kissed down her jawline to soothe the dark-purple bruises on her neck. "Maybe not even when I'm there."

"Shayne..."

"Fuck, you always come back so broken, Angel. Broken and vulnerable and confused." Shayne drilled his nails into her wrists as he scraped his teeth beneath her ear. "Don't want him seeing you like this. Don't want you confusing us again." He stole a kiss, harsh and forceful. It brimmed with passion and dominance. The fuzzy edges dividing him from foreign clouded its origin.

"I can't just leave you there with her," Courtney whimpered, passion tangling with fear.

"I hate it," Shayne said in a growly husk. Rearing up, he bolted his cerulean orbs to her. Foreign pulsed at her tear-caked face, worry outlining her countenance. Any anger or hurt dissipated, fragility taming his conflict. Her insecurities exposed, her mask broken, and truth bare to him. It obliterated his walls, allowing foreign to escape his filter. "I hate seeing you like this, Doll."

_FUCK._

Fear boldened her features before he could address his misstep. Panic hastening her legs to her chest. Feet slipping and sliding across the sheets, she jammed her knees into his stomach.

Regret evacuated him. Blood emptying his face. Pale.

"Angel, it slipped." Shayne pitched back, clasping her face between his palms. Directing her green pools to him, he polished the lines creasing her complexion. Still, her shallow breathing hitched. Fright clinging. "You like pineapple on pizza. You pluck at things when you get nervous, and you think no one notices when you hide it, but I do. I do.

"The first day we met, our callback, you did that stupidly cute impression." The soft smile breaking her terror impelled him to continue. "Kept apologizing even though everyone was laughing. God, you used to be so shy about your jokes, always second-guessing yourself. Yet you never failed to make me laugh, make me smile."

A moment of silence evened their breathing.

"It's me. I'm me." Sneaking an arm underneath her, Shayne cemented her to his chest as he rolled onto his back. She nested into his trunk, one hand pawing at his breast while the other toyed with his hairline.

"I feel so stupid, projecting my shortcomings onto you. Should be able to tell you two apart. It should be easy. You do it, and your lines are more blurred than mine."

"Hey now, don't sell yourself short just yet." Shayne carded his digits through her blonde tresses. "You've been doing great up until now, and honestly, I cheat." —Raising her head, she cocked it to the side.— "I have her collar to go off of, remember?" —She nodded, teeth worrying her upturned lips.— "How about this? When you're feeling better, we'll look for some sort of necklace. Hell, get me a collar if that's what you want. A clear visual marker. That way, you can't get confused."

"I shouldn't need one to tell you two apart." Courtney bowed, gold veiling her features as she shook her head.

"You're not the only one struggling, Angel." Honesty sustained his words. "The boundaries between mine and his gets fuzzier each day. At least this will make it easier for you. One less thing to worry about, for the both of us."

"Even if I never go back?" Courtney chirped, dabbing her tears away with the back of her hand.

"Something tells me, once we've switched, there's no keeping you away." He grinned, wiping off the leftover droplets she had overlooked with the pad of his thumb.

Just as Courtney crawled up to kiss him, vibrations buzzed against his nightstand table. It diverted their attention to where his phone laid on top of the wooden tabletop. The screen lit up as Damien's text tone chimed.

Groaning, Shayne snatched the black rectangle and unlocked the screen. Tainted-blue pools darted back and forth, reading and rereading his best friend's message. The once quieting turbulence in his stomach now erupted into violent tremors.

"Bear?" Courtney piped in as he white-knuckled his iPhone.

_'This Friday. Pit Stop Diner. Noon. Bring Courtney to mediate. I want to talk to him. See you in two days!'_


	39. Shayne

Wrath infiltrated every molecule of Shayne's tissue as he stepped onto the sidewalk fronting the Pit Stop Diner. Its foreignness shattered the welcomed reprieve of Alternate Shayne's absence. Two days of silence. Two days of relative peace. Not surprising, considering his Alternate's unprecedented hatred for the establishment, though the level of anger irked him. Even worse, it increased with each footfall towards the Diner.

A body crashing into his back alerted Shayne to his cessation of movement. Courtney. She giggled, raking her nails down his back before pressing her cheek against him. They loitered like that for a few seconds before a playful shove sent Shayne stumbling over his feet until he came face-to-face with the front door. His stomach dropped.

**_This fucking place again, really Soyboy? Please tell me the reason you've dragged me to this wretched hell hole is to burn the place down._ **

Alternate Shayne bolted his feet to the concrete, foreign pulsating with the intent of taking over. Willpower enabled Shayne to shuffle to the side though the majority went to securing his control and preventing his Alternate from obtaining it.

_And here I was beginning to think you stopped existing, Bunny Boy._

**_Wait, this is revenge, isn't it? Lovely, just lovely. You're pissed off I fucked your girl, and this wretched hellhole is my punishment. This won't end well; nothing ever ends well here._ **

Lithe fingers slotting between his digits broke Shayne's trance.

"Everything okay?" Courtney tended her head against his shoulder as she gazed up at him. Worry swirled within her emeralds. The urge to exchange her hand for her waist pricked his fingertips, but with their love affair still a secret to the public's eye, Shayne just tugged her closer and nodded.

"Just hate this place, that's all," Shayne said, casting a timid smile her way. Eyes on the ground, he allowed Courtney to tow him across the threshold and into the chaotic jumble of sounds contaminating the restaurant. As they approached the host waiting to seat patrons, the subdued hums of static joined the thought-muted room tone. His mind louder than the world.

It seeped into his vision, shrouding everything in a hazy blur. Clumps of undefined movement and fuzzy edges blending stagnant shapes into the background. The blob of pastel pink swaying in front of him comprised the sole recognizable entity. Courtney swam in his shirt, its delicate cotton covering the black shorts she wore underneath. Alternate Shayne's approval surged upon noticing the rose decal stitched into its breast.

Chosen as they raced out the door, her taste lingering on his tongue hindered his ability to recognize the shirt's significance. The one Alternate Courtney had worn on their engagement night. Foreign ached to jerk Courtney against him and shower her with love.

_Don't you even think about it._

**_Hey! Don't blame me for your girl's wandering hands. You know, I did try to stop her. Confused little thing thought I was you, can you imagine?_ **

_Yeah, well, you did a real shit job at that, Fuckwad. How am I supposed to trust you now?_

Shayne fingered the black-leather band encircling his neck, rolling the cylindrical metal clasp stationed right below his chin. The cold surface polished his spiraled pads, chill steadying his breath, and knowing that she now had a visual cue to check her reality comforted him.

"You can hear him, can't you?" Courtney squeezed his hand as the hostess steered them across the diner. Shayne just nodded, half-aware himself. The plague of static distorting his sensory input amplified the deeper in they ventured.

**_Wait, Wait, Wait._ **

Muffled laughter rasped Shayne's skin, coating his flesh in goosebumps. The hairs on his neck stood on end, nerves clumping in his throat.

**_She fucking collared you?_ **

"Won't stop complaining about how much he hates this place." Shayne rolled his eyes, swallowing his Alternate's implication. "Can't say I blame him, senses always get a bit wonky in here."

_It's a necklace, not a collar._

**_Necklace or collar, same thing. She owns you. And FUCK. That's her thing too, isn't it?_ **

_Wrong again, Sicko. Really off your game lately. I thought it would help tell us apart since she's been --_

**_Struggling... Like me..._ **

A deep inhale filled Shayne's chest as he glanced over at Courtney tugging him along just a few paces ahead. Blonde bounced as she walked. Upon reaching a table in the far corner, it settled against her back. Shayne stopped a fraction too close for platonic friends, close enough that her scent wafted over him. It grounded him, clarity emerging from the static-clogged room.

"Do you want me to sit next to Damien when..." Fragility wavered her voice as she trailed off, guilt weaving into her uncertainty. Still, unheard words rang clear.

"Next to me." Shayne ushered Courtney into the booth facing the wall before scooting up next to her.

**_Damien? The twat's why we're here? FUCK, you could not have picked a worse day for this. I'm out. Bash your skull in or something, just get me out of here. Or, even better, burn this place down._ **

_Don't know why you hate this place so much, but you're shit out of luck. Damien's gotten it in his bright mind that he needs to talk to you._

**_Ah, so you're giving me control then? This should be fun._ **

_Why? So you can get all grabby with my girl again?_

**_She's the one who came on to me, Fuckface, but whatever helps you sleep at night._ **

"What's he saying?" Golden bunched against the sleeve of his dark blue shirt, tendrils arcing in little loops that tickled his neck. A soft chuckle crisped his breath as she pressed a hidden kiss to his bicep. He tried his hardest to ignore Alternate Shayne's nonsense, choosing to remain steadfast in his faith of Courtney. An easy decision considering his Alternate's track record of lying. Still, it nagged, strengthening the static.

"Nothing of importance." Shayne kissed her hair. "Just egging me on as usual."

Nimble digits crawled up his chest to fiddle with his necklace's clasp. Hooking her finger onto it, she dragged his to hers for a brief kiss.

"Public," Shayne reminded, placing his pointer to her lips. "Plus, I'm hearing static and don't want you to make the same mistake again." A curtain of blonde enclosed her bowed feature, her crimson-flushed cheeks poking through. Though guilt pervaded that morning's escapades that still engraved her features. Courtney flicked her hair back and beamed at him as she rotated the cylinder between her thumb and index.

Shaking the necklace, Courtney leveraged it to lean in and peck his cheek. Her breath heated a path up to his ear. "Just caught up in how hot this makes you."

"I KNEW IT!" The all-too-familiar nasally tone shouted from the opposite side of the Diner, and the sound of a metal tray and plate clattering on the tile floor soon followed.

"Wanna play guess the accent?" Courtney snickered, nudging her way under his arm. Shayne raised an eyebrow at her, eyes darting around the less-than-crowded seating area. Attention divided between them and Charlie. "Don't worry, your muscle will hide me."

"Clearly." Amusement and sarcasm dripped from his tongue as he gestured to Charlie. The obnoxious waitress knelt on the ground, scrambling to clean shards of plates scattering a lake of spilled coffee and ice cubes. Disheveled, though utterly pleased with herself.

"Serves her right." Courtney scrunched her nose as she stuck her tongue out at Charlie. "Maybe, next time she'll think before playing that weird, bizarre jealous matchmaker schtick of hers."

"Hey, it worked for us, or are we not a couple?" Shayne clasped her upper arm in an awkward side-hug.

**_God, you two are sickening._ **

_Shouldn't you be with your fiance or something?_

**_She's with... Fuck, that's not important. You said the twat wants to talk to me? About?_ **

The roar of foreign jealousy that accompanied Alternate Shayne's words drove their connotation home, though Shayne chose to disregard it. Aggravating his Alternate further fell well outside what he desired.

_Your guess is as good as mine._

"What's going on?" Clumsy fingertips scaled his clothed abs, implementing the folds in his shirt as little footholds. Lazy and sloppy, they slipped and fell on their journey to ball up the fabric. Courtney nuzzled in as she yawned with a sleepy smile. Scarlet apples, lifting her cheeks, crested her eyes. Adorable. Content. His.

"If he... When he takes over, you'll be able to advocate for me, right?" Shayne worried out loud as her eyelids fluttered shut. "You won't fall asleep on me... On him."

"That's why I'm here, right? Promise not to let you down." Sleepy circles scalded his chest, the thin layer of cotton failing to circumvent her touch. He snatched her hand, halting her actions before his skin burned. "I can sit next to Damien if it makes you feel better, Bear."

**_Don't you fucking dare let her near that twat._**

_Mad you won't be able to get your grubby paws on her again?_

**_Christ, you're gonna make me say it, aren't you? FUCK._ **

_Say what? That your fiance is currently fucking your so-called best friend? You know, that sounds more like a you problem._

**_Really, because if you weren't such a pathetic little coward. FUCK. I can hear them. I'm in the fucking living room, and I can hear them._ **

_Well, maybe if your girl wasn't such a sex-crazed--_

**_DO YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THIS? FUCK. If I thought she'd be safe with you, none of this. NONE OF THIS would be happening. And yet here I am, in this God awful establishment, about to be face to face with the guy currently fucking my fiance. You really want to test my patience?_ **

"Bear." Courtney retracted, fingertips denting into his collar. Blinking away the haze clogging his brain, Shayne leveled his lips at the concern softening her expression. The film of liquid coagulating on her emeralds twisted his gut. "I need an answer. He'll be here soon."

"Stay," Shayne said, swallowing. "Damien has horrible timing. Like it's probably the worse day for this."

Head cock to the side, confusion-infused disbelief dried her eyes as she processed his implication. Eyes widened, and lips pursed. Her brow furrowed for a second before upturned-lips drooped.

"Maybe we should cancel." She pulled a tense smile.

"Cancel what?" Damien asked, sliding into the booth across from them.

Shayne's hand shot straight to Courtney's thigh, latching on right above her knee. The immediate skin contact combated the stress strangling his form, calloused pads kneading her flesh in search of more relief. It drew another yawn from Courtney as she ducked under to curl into his chest and displaced his arm.

"Cour, I know you've been too busy fucking to write in your journal, but I thought you were keeping this private? "

"Sorry," Courtney groaned, flopping against the wall with a wince. Shayne's hand rushed to her waist, tugging on a pleat of pink fabric. Upon her eyes shifting to him, he smiled and lounged his arm across the top of the booth. A tender smile catapulted her back against his side. "I'm just... I'm still recovering."

Her half-truth omitted the second reason for her lack of a journal entry. After Damien's little comment New Year's Eve, just the thought of recording the circumstances of her Glimpse soured their tongues, and neither cared to dwell on it long enough to parcel out the crucial bits.

"It's fine. You're the least of my concern." Damien shrugged her off.

His tone irked Shayne, but he chalked its harshness up to Alternate Shayne's throbbing hatred distorting his perception. His Alternate's presence inched closer to overlay his, the anchors securing his soul's control starting to float away.

"Shayne's the tangled one, after all." Damien continued. It struck a nerve. The tangle. The one element he tackled on a day to day basis but somehow managed to overlook. Daily occurrences falling into the background and becoming the norm.

"About that," Shayne said, scratching behind his ear. "It's getting harder. For both of us. My edges are blurry, and--"

"Look, I'm trying. It's not like there's a whole lot of research into this soul swapping thing." Damien snatched a menu and splayed it open across the counter.

"Then why are we even here," Courtney said. She presented a valid point. Damien knew Alternate Shayne's loathing for the Diner. Hell, pretty much all three of them hated the place. "Like if you haven't figured something out, maybe we should reschedule."

"I suppose you're not interested in learning what causes Shayne's Glimpses then?" A thin smile flattened Damien's mouth.

"Just get on with it." Shayne detached his arm from the booth and secured his spiraled pads to Courtney's bare thigh. Skin contact reinforced the few remaining footholds still retaining his control.

"Stress and, or fear. One of the two, maybe both. You mention feeling one of the two every time you Glimpse, so... "

"Makes sense," Courtney piped in with a giggle. Gazing up at Shayne, she poked his chest. The pain urged his attention to the sly smirk tipping her lips. "You are a pretty emotional boy."

Alternate Shayne's chuckle sent a wave of shivers through his spine.

**_Emotional is an understatement. You're a pansy. One breeze sends you over._ **

A finger looping around his necklace broke the haze of static Alternate Shayne's word brought. Giggling drew his gaze to Courtney just as she hoisted her lips to his ear and whispered, "but that's why I love you."

"Anyways." Damien cleared his throat as he slid the menu across the table. His quirked eyebrow propelled Shayne to survey the room. He groaned upon seeing Charlie approaching.

Her face twisted into oversaturated features, a too-wide smile, and pointed teeth. Static shrieked in his ears, vibrating spikes infiltrating his vision and corrupting the world. Alternate Shayne's rage pierced the flimsy barrier withholding him from surfacing. It pried all control from his grasp, his body bolted upright before falling back in a sprawled out manner.

"Twat, if you don't have a better reason for bringing me to this shithole, I swear to God." Alternate Shayne clucked his tongue at Damien just as Charlie arrived at the table. "Everyone already fucking knows this coward's an emotional wreck."


	40. Courtney

"Just the guy I was hoping to talk to," Damien said without missing a beat.

Exhaustion clouded Courtney's autonomic responses, destabilizing her emotional control. Rubber-banding between highs and lows. Shayne's presence had allowed her to ignore their instability, his protection tempering her nerves. Now crushed against the wall to avoid Alternate Shayne's heat, a rollercoaster whipped her constitution to shreds, and dissipating self-control promised its crash.

Sneaking a glance at the culprit in question, Courtney's heart tightened. The wobble of his Adam's apple betrayed the confidence sharpening his features. Higher up, anger-masked fear sparked Alternate Shayne's eyes. Misplaced and misguided hostility aimed straight at Damien.

"Your boy wears this, not me." Without looking away, Alternate Shayne unfastened the necklace, fat fingers fumbling with the metallic clasp. The cylinder quaked, shakiness pervading his every move, small tremors that took a keen eye to discern but obvious once noticed. Black leather draped across his palm, he rammed it into her hands.

Skin contact quieted her nerves, sudden, immediate, and reminiscent of Shayne. It overrode Courtney's reasoning, alerting to a new problem, the struggle of differentiating touch.

With Alternate Shayne wearing Shayne's hide, an unforeseen complication arose to create a juxtaposition between who her rationale identified and who her body perceived. Distinguishing touch and micromanaging her behavior to match added another task to wear her fatigued energy reserves thin. Matters made worse when the second his touch vanished, a rush of anxiety spurred Courtney into regaining his heat. For now, she neglected it.

_You may look and feel like mine, but your soul doesn't belong to me._

"Thank you," Courtney whispered, coiling the band around her wrist. Metal soothed her spiraled pads spinning the clasp closed. The silver barrel wheeled in rapid rotations, threads lining up and fastening. Admiring the looped necklace directed her gaze to her purse, located behind it. The reflective sheen of her phone captured her eye.

Plucking the device from its pocket, Courtney held the cellphone beneath the table as she swiped the lock screen and navigated to a thread of texts between her and Damien.

_'Be gentle, he's not in the best place right now.'_

Tilting to the side, Damien retrieved his phone from his jeans. A scowl marred his features as he typed his response.

_'And your boyfriend is? Fuck, I care about this Dickwad's feelings.'_

Guilt punched her stomach, shriveling Courtney against the wall until the protruding trim jabbed her ribs. It counteracted the magnetic field pulsating beside her, inviting her to take solace in his embrace. Still, she stayed resolute, partitioning the last vestiges of her energy between maintaining appearances and gauging Alternate Shayne's emotional state.

Of the two of them, Courtney reckoned his breakdown was an inevitability. A race against the clock, with Alternate Shayne as the predicted winner. Another dilemma exacerbated by circumstance. With Shayne more-than-likely monitoring her behavior, and Damien likely to scrutinize her every move...

_How am I supposed to keep him from blowing up without touching him?_

"Really, and why is that?" Alternate Shayne spat back. Laced fingers, propped on the table, barricaded his battling thumbs as he pitched in. Feigned interest brightened his face, obvious to the naked eye. Raised eyebrows over-exaggerated and tense smile clearly fake.

Before Damien could respond, a pile of silverware clattered on the tabletop.

Faux-red leather squeaked as Alternate Shayne flew backwards, flattening against the booth. Panic washed his complexion of color, arms spread and palms fanned across tattered-red cloth. Chest heaving, his sights lifted to the offender, a smirking Charlie towering over the table. Her open hand hovered parallel to the table.

"Sorry, Deary." She cracked a piece of gum. "Didn't mean ta scare ya."

The alarm on Alternate Shayne's countenance settled into annoyance, though hints of terror still lingered underneath. He tucked the arm closest to Chalie against his side, though the other remained sprawled across the top of the booth. Its heat permeated her, offering a promised comfort that joined the nagging urge to accept his shelter.

Nudging the arm above her head, Courtney gestured for him to dislodge it. Instead, miscommunication descended its resting spot to her shoulder before he hauled her to his side.

Damien coughed in disapproval.

Immediate relief and reprieve countered the burst of guilt Damien's reminder had caused, delaying Courtney from shaking Alternate Shayne off. It helped that his touch also hampered the spike of indecipherable emotion that Charlie's presence induced.

"I knew it, you two have gone an' fucked each otha, didn't cha?" Charlie remarked in an accent too botched to catalog. Dialect jumping regions phrase to phrase. A mix of British and Irish comprised her best guess.

Nails drilled into her as Alternate Shayne stifled a predatory growl. It echoed from his throat and vibrated into her frame. Attending to his expression, Courtney heeded the tension contracting his jaw. Taunt lines and shallow breaths. The point narrowing his brow cried of anger-laced hatred, but the whites of his eyes declared otherwise — fear.

_Are you scared of her?_

"Is there a reason our love life is so interesting to you?" Courtney sneered at the waitress. "Or are you just so bored with your worthless existence that you don't have anything better to do than come up with these horrendous accents?"

Emeralds carved into daggers took aim at an unwavering Charlie as she slipped Alternate Shayne's hold. Plastering herself to the wall once again, Courtney neglected the screams of objection that distance produced.

Muted amusement split Damien's lips while Alternate Shayne struggled to contain his panic. Little signs of terror bleeding through his facade that familiarity recognized.

"Now, don't go hidin' ya love from me, Deary. Just a wee bit curious, that's all. Probably too much for my own good, seein' as this sweet muffin here's been all bought up. Thanks to me and all." Charlie gleamed. Diverting her attention to Alternate Shayne, she placed a hand where his neck and shoulder connected.

His eyes bulged, mismatched blues darting between her and Charlie as teeth penetrated his bottom lip. A ripping sound lured Courtney's gaze to the piece of torn fabric clutched in his trembling fist.

_Not good. Not good._

"A real shame too. Cuties like you don' come 'round 'ere oft'n." Charlie squeezed, kneading his bare skin. "An' I'd sure love to hav'a roll in the sheets wit' you."

"Back off, Bitch." Protection-fueled anger launched Courtney across Alternate Shayne, claws spiking the edge of the cushion. The whirlwind of movement knocked Charlie's hand off and forced the waitress a few steps back. "He's mine, got it?" Body draped across his lap, her chest puffed with each exasperated breath. "Mine."

Damien cleared his throat.

Heat cupping her waist praised Courtney, fingertips massaging delicate circles into her ribcage. It suppressed her rapid-fire nerves, her body slumping against his thighs with a tired whimper. Hoisting her upright, Alternate Shayne guided her back to the corner. Gentle. Tender. Careful.

"Not yours, remember?" His breath warmed the shell of her ear, hands lingering longer than required.

_I know I just..._

Her head thumped against the wall as Alternate Shayne's grasp abandoned her, and gut-churning guilt inundated her veins. The ache for its return emerged, provoking bile to lurch in her stomach and rise in her throat. Courtney swallowed it, distracting herself with a frayed strip of wallpaper peeling off the wall. She plucked at it.

"Right so, ignoring them." Damien tapped his menu on the table as if aligning its pages. "Just a coffee, please." Though he spoke to Charlie, he side-eyed Courtney. She almost failed to notice, lost in flicking the curly-cue ribbon of wallpaper dangling off the wall.

"Make that two, and a hot chocolate for the girl." Alternate Shayne waved Charlie off.

"You know, the girl has a name." Animosity corrupted Damien's tone, a frown contorting his features.

"Damien, it's fine," Courtney said, glancing at the blue streaked boy from the corner of her eye. "Can we just get on with it?" Stealing another look at Alternate Shayne, she bit her lip.

_I'm not the one who needs protection..._

Ripples of panic disrupted the film of contempt constituting his mask, little billows breaching its surface to accumulate on his eyelashes. Quivering lips muttered silent words, a repetitive mantra of sorts. A meltdown waiting to happen, and with Damien in the picture, predicting whether it chose fight or flight eluded Courtney.

"Hot chocolate sounds perfect," she said, wanting to mitigate any potential stressors that could trigger Alternate Shayne's break. His Adam's apple bobbed, a sharp gasp slick with withheld tears.

_Fuck, you're in a really bad headspace, aren't you?_

Delicate digits explored the sticky faux-leather, leaping over patches of grime in search of Alternate Shayne's hand. A conscious choice. One she would have made even without the constant nagging for touch.

Skin finding skin, she pressed circles into the webbing between his thumb and pointer. Physical reassurance polished his edges and bolstered her composure. Physical reassurance he rejected, rearranging her hand back on the seat.

"I'm sorry, I just figured you'd want to order for yourself and not let this asshole act like your boyfriend. Who's still in there, remember?" Head cocked to the side, widened eyes accompanied the disapproval dripping off Damien's tongue. "Then again, it seems you can't keep yourself off him. You aren't confused, are you?"

_Little late to the parade on that one._

"What was I supposed to do? Let that bitch manhandle him? She doesn't know this isn't the real Shayne, remember?" Courtney ripped her hand free as she flung herself across the table to whisper-yell in Damien's face. Shallow, but heavy breaths bounced her chest. "Excuse me for not wanting some grubby-pawed skank all up in my boyfriend's face."

Broad digits molded around her bare thigh and squeezed, calloused spirals scraping the agitation away and allowing her to breathe.

"And weren't you the one telling us to act normal for the world?" Plopping back against the wall with a humph, Courtney stopped Alternate Shayne from extracting his comfort. With exhaustion thinning her inhibition, it provided her some much-needed restraint. The last thing she desired was for her lack of self-control to boil over and cause more of a scene.

_We don't need two broken messes._

"I suppose you got me there." Damien shrugged, though his narrowed eyes and skeptic-painted face assured that his acquiescence ran skin deep.

The booth creaked as he shifted to Alternate Shayne. Brown eyes scrutinized his appearance, initiating a bizarre staring contest. For a few moments, nothing but silence weighed the air until a breathy, nervous laugh escaped Damien. "Man, the eyes are unsettling."

"Any other brilliant comments you'd like to make before I punch your face in." A tooth tugged on his sly smirk as Alternate Shayne cracked his knuckles. A false display of dominance. The waver of his tone and the twitch of his lips proved it, though his puffed chest and stiff posturing countered her initial conclusion.

Denim rasped Courtney's spiraled pads as she dug them into Alternate Shayen's thigh. Muscle tensed under pressure before his body language softened. Brief and short-lived. The emergence of toe-tapping signaled Courtney to the temporary nature of her fleeting touches and half-assed reassurances. A band-aid that lost its adhesiveness with each use.

"Woah dude, what'd I do to you?" Damien raised his hands in surrender, though his cocky grin persisted.

A guttural growl vibrated through Alternate Shayne's Adam's apple, propelling Courtney to grab his shirt's collar. Yanking him off the table, she repositioned her grip to his shoulder as her body caught his weight.

"He doesn't know about the threesome, or anything regarding your Dames," she whispered in his ear, side-eyeing an unamused Damien. "And he sure as hell doesn't know about our kiss, so behave."

A slight nod indicated Alternate Shayne's acknowledgment before he slouched against the faux-red leather.

Saturating her lungs, Courtney lounged back. Their shoulders grazed, the exchange closing the gap between them. His radiating heat persuaded Courtney against obeying the reason screaming for her to move away. Instead, exhaustion won, limiting her body awareness and sloping her towards Alternate Shayne until his bicep supported her head.

"Courtney, maybe you should sit over here." Damien hurried to make room for her, patting the empty space for emphasis.

Before Courtney could dismiss Damien's request, Alternate Shayne's hand sprung to her upper thigh. A little too high for comfort, but the tremors breaching his grip reeked of desperation as they reverberated into her muscle. Stolen glances, through her eyelashes, discerned anger surpassing fear.

_You're breaking... In the worst way._

"Damien, trust me when I say, it's in your best interest that I don't," Courtney said, repositioning Alternate Shayne's grip to her knee.

"If you say so." Coffee-colored eyes steeped in disbelief deceived Damien's acceptance.

"Twat, you've got a lot of nerve bringing me to this hell hole, so you better have something to fucking say other than just policing her around." Fingertips denting her flesh punctuated Alternate Shayne's sentences. She bit her lip to stifle a whimper threatening to breakthrough.

"Sorry if I'm just looking out for my boy in there watching all of this?" Damien pulled a rigid smile. "But whatever, since you brought it up, wanna tell me why you hate this place so much?"

"Do you know there's a Pit Stop Diner in every single universe I've been to?" Alternate Shayne danced his fingertips across sensitive skin, delicate strokes that spiked arousal through her core. Courtney's surprise at his confession masked the shrill yelp it evoked as she swatted at his grip, frantic for him to stop. A regretful simper ceased his actions, though the warmth secured to her flesh endured.

"Mind you, I've only been to two, but she's always there." —He nodded towards Charlie bothering a next-door table.— "That annoying bimbo, too nosy for her own good. You ever have food poisoning so bad you can't leave the house for a week? Swear to God, she wants me dead."

"Thankfully, no." Damien muffled a laugh with his forearm. "So, with that out of the way, what can you tell me about these Glimpses?"

Too exhausted to listen to them ramble about physics, Courtney yawned as she slumped across the table. She kept her ears perked to their conversation just enough to gather any concerning talking points that required her mitigation. For now, she nested her head into the nook that her folded arms created, overlooking the layer of gunk coating the shiny-black surface.

_Should probably shower when I get home._

The continuation of Damien's pointless interrogation informed of his failure to notice her half-awake state. Grateful for this, Courtney smacked her lips as sleep prepared to claim her. Just as her eyes fluttered shut, Alternate Shayne nudged her waist.

Courtney grumbled her response, burying her face further into her arms.

"Baby Doll," Alternate Shayne whispered, snaking an arm around her midriff. Limp. Deadweight. Her form drooped over his arm as he hoisted Courtney against his chest. Kissing her hair, he smoothed his hand up and down her back. "I'm holding on the best I can, but I need you to stay awake for me," he mumbled against her. "Or stay here. Your choice, but I can't keep it together much longer without you."

Lacking the energy to detach herself, Courtney succumbed to his affection with another drawn-out yawn. Lithe digits tunneled into cotton as she fisted his shirt and scooted closer. The stress strangling Alternate Shayne evaporated in an instant, loose muscles and steady breathing.

A stolen peek warmed her heart upon noticing the peacefulness now leveling his features. It brought a content simper to her features, the burden of micro-managing both of their actions alleviated.

_Holding me, it provides security, doesn't it? Like you don't feel as threatened by him._

"Okay, that's it, Courtney." Damien slammed his palms on the table, startling Courtney against the wall. She banged into it with a resounding thud, the raised trim stabbing her bicep. Leaning back, she nursed her bruising arm. A painful wince split her lips. "I don't care what you say. I'm not going to sit here and watch you cheat on my best friend."

A momentary look at Alternate Shayne stole her breath. He seethed with rage, chest heaving, and fists clenched. His thighs quaked as if readying to stand. Too focused on Damien to even register her pain.

_FUCK._

"Damien, you really—"

"Really, what?" Damien cut her off, agitation visible. "That you're too tired to keep your paws off another guy? Or is there something I'm missing? Because I sure as hell don't think Shayne would be too happy, you know, seeing you falling asleep in this dipshit's arms. So, either tell me why I should be okay with this cuddlefest you have going on or sit next to me."

"Watch it!" Alternate Shayne barked. Nails spearing into her waist caused Courtney to yelp as he jerked her against him. Rough pads scoured her ribcage through pink cotton until their tips brushed her breast. "She stays with me unless you want to leave armless."

"Mind telling me what your problem with me is?" Damien asked. "Because I've done jack shit to you despite you tearing my best friend's life apart, and this can't just be about not getting a job."

"Damien, drop it," Courtney ordered.

"No Courtney, I'm not dropping this." Damien glared at her. A severe and intimidating tone conveyed his irritation reaching a dangerous level. "You either sit next to me or—"

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE THREATEN HER!" Courtney slid off his chest and onto the booth in a clump of listless limbs as Alternate Shayne bolted upright.

"Then tell me what the fuck is going on?" Damien rose to meet him, palms planted on the table. Inches separated their noses, eyes locked in battle. "I'm sick of all the secrets."

"Guys, you're gonna get us kicked out," Courtney chimed in, voice to faint to be heard. Spotting Charlie approaching with their drinks, Courtney tugged on Alternate Shayne's to redirect his attention to no avail.

"You're fucking my fiancé, happy?" Alternate Shayne hammered the table. It wobbled, almost toppling over as he rushed out of the booth and into Charlie. The tray in her hand plummeted to the ground, mugs of hot liquid flying through the air and splashing onto both Charlie and Alternate Shayne.

"HOT! Hot! Hot!" Charlie shrieked, pulling at her drenched uniform.

Forcing her aside, Alternate Shayne stormed out of the diner, not even bothering to wring his soaked shirt dry.

"He just...?" Damien paled.

"You're lucky he didn't punch you in the face." Courtney scrambled out of the booth. Collecting a glass of ice water from a neighboring table, she ignored the party's protests as she chased after Alternate Shayne.


	41. Courtney

Panic raged inside Courtney as she burst through the front door of the Pit Stop Diner and onto the sidewalk. Rushing traffic smudged in front of her, honking horns and screeching breaks. The usual for Los Angeles. Unfamiliar faces lined the concrete, pedestrians in passing, and a scattered few waiting at the bus stop. Darting greens failing to detect Alternate Shayne increased the anxiety energizing her.

A harsh yell emanating from her right twisted her head, desperation fueling her sprint towards it. Water splashed from the glass of water in her hold, splattering the sidewalk and her shirt in disfigured polka-dots.

She skidded to a stop upon discovering an alleyway alongside the Pit Stop Diner. Darkness obscured its interior. Blades of sunlight tapered into nothing as they sliced the two opposing walls along the horizontal. An optical illusion that toyed with depth perception. Clumps of trash cluttered its entrance. Crumpled paper and rotting food. A flattened newspaper with a coffee-colored shoeprint flapped in the wind, the weight of a large rock anchoring it to the ground.

Creeping a few steps in, Courtney avoided the sandpaper-like walls. Patterned red bricks on one side and white concrete on the other. Emeralds squinted as she scanned the narrow inlet until shadowed silhouettes graced her sights. A human-shaped one prompted her to sigh.

_Thank god, I found you._

Careful not to spill what scarce liquid remained, she navigated the litter scattering the pavement to find a pain riddled Alternate Shayne sitting against the wall.

_Should prob text Damien that I found him._

A pat-down of her hips and bottom came up empty. Shorts lacking pockets meant her phone still resided with Damien in the Diner. _Fuck._

"Well, I suppose this is better than you punching him," Courtney said, regret seeping in upon observing his condition.

Legs straight out, steam billowed from his coffee-soaked shirt as shaky hands strived to peel it off. Loose fibers adhered to his burns, flaying his blistering epidermis into thin strands with each tug of fabric. Pain mangled his features into a wince, wrinkles creasing every surface available. Strangled grunts and painful whines hitched his breath.

"Fuck, this is worse than I thought." Urgency collided her words as she hastened to his side.

Tucking her folded knees between his, Courtney placed the cup beside his hip. Nimble digits scurried to the hem of his shirt, endeavoring to remove the material before it further embedded itself in his flesh, but his trembling fists held firm.

"I need to get you out of this shirt before those burns get worse."

"I'm fine," Alternate Shayne hissed, quickening his actions. Hasty. Clumsy. Frantic. He wrenched the material up to his belly button. "FUCK!"

A sharp shout pierced the air as drenched cotton slipped his grip and plastered to his abs. Quivering fingertips attempted to grab the cloth once more. Their fumbling to secure the fabric landed them on his burnt tissue time and time again.

"Doesn't look fine to me." Nimble digits dislodged his before he added damage. Grasping his shirt, Courtney bunched the hem in her fists as Alternate Shayne flattened his palms on the pavement to brace himself.

Slow but steady, Courtney freed the fabric from his abdomen, mindful to prevent the coiled-leather necklace on her wrist from irritating his wounds. Pleats of cotton accumulated in her clutches as she scaled his torso.

Each inch of exposed flesh revealed patches of red, inflamed skin. First-degree burns constituted the majority, though some splotches teetered on the edge of second-degree. Fresh and forming blisters scattering an expanse of moistened scarlet. A broken sore clung to the inside of the shirt, ribbons of tissue stretching before breaking.

Alternate Shayne cringed, grabbing her arms as he steadied his breathing. Pebble-crusted palms chafed her biceps, tiny crumbs of dirt transferring to her.

"Do you think you can stand?" Concern of exposing the open wounds to grime paused her at his shoulders, leaving the majority of his abdomen bared to her. Splotchy. Red. Burning. A handful of wounds managing to sneak into the clefts of his muscles. The longer she stared, the more her exhaustion crept in, tired-eyes battling the alarm stocking her strength. Stifling a yawn, Courtney noted threads of cotton implanted in a patch of blisters spotting the underside of his pec. "It isn't exactly sterile here."

"And go where? The hospital?" Alternate Shayne choked out as she resumed. "You're too exhausted to drive, and I sure as hell can't."

"I can go ask--"

"Rather die than accept his help right now."

"This isn't your body, remember? And I'd rather my boyfriend didn't get an infection." She guided the bunched-up cloth to rest under his armpits. Tiredness cumbered her, weighing her down until black leather knocked his chest.

"Can you afford the ambulance?" The rasp of leather provoked Alternate Shayne to lift his arms over his head, agony splitting his lips as the skin on his stomach stretched with his movement.

Sighing, Courtney shook her head.

"Just... Keep your grimy hands off, don't want to contaminate these wounds further." Towing the offending article over his head and arms, Courtney chucked it to the side. This was not how she expected this day to transpire. No, anticipation predicted Damien as the injured party, if any. Tending to Alternate Shayne never came to mind. Now? Now she had no choice unless willing to let these open wounds to fester, and it purged the last vestiges of her energy, little by little.

Glass cooled her palm as lithe digits curled around the half-filled cup. Ice cubes rattled, fatigue quaking her grip as she hoisted the glass off the ground. A brief inspection distinguished the melting wedges comprising the bulk of its contents, most of the water having spilled out during her race to find him.

Covering the top with one hand, she poured its contents across his injuries. Rivulets dripped onto burnt flesh, droplets branching out and slinking into the indentations of his abs. The chilled liquid extracted painful cries and whimpers from Alternate Shayne as it washed debris from his wounds. Streams carried particles of cloth and dirt down his trunk to dampen his jeans.

"I'm proud of you. Walking away couldn't have been easy." Courtney set the cup on the ground, now half-filled with a liquefying collection of ice. Though under the Californian sun, their solid-state stood no chance.

"Your boy already hates me enough, and--"

"You need him to take care of yours, I know." Grabbing a wedge of ice, she pressed it to the open-and-draining blister beneath his pec. Light pressure-mapped the quilt of mismatched burns stitched into his stomach, inciting a string of slurs to escape him. "What I don't get is why you let her go with your Dames if you hate it this much? Don't you trust her?"

"This... This isn't about trust. It's about compulsion," he said, rasping his nails across his thighs. "Things we've tried together, she'll convince herself are safe just to feel close to me again. Things you shouldn't try alone."

Leaning in, Courtney picked at a thread of cotton still clinging to a wound. Grazing touches evoked a sharp gasp before a quick yank jerked his knee into her arm. It flooded Courtney with pain, tremors threatening to consume. Curses and obscenities erupted into her mother, but clasped teeth jailed them. Steadying herself on his shoulder, she rearranged herself to straddle his hips and limit his movement. The necklace bounced on her wrist as if scolding her.

_Please don't be mad, Bear. I need to do this._

"We agreed to the proposal, and even if just platonic, shouldn't that be enough?" With the fiber pinched between her thumb and pointer, Courtney flicked it out of sight before returning to icing his wounds. Hunched over. Languid breaths. Energy funneled into being gentle, yet clumsiness still enveloped her actions. "This can't be the first time you two will be separated for more than a few days."

"You really think, I'd put myself through this fucking shit out of choice? " Alternate Shayne propped his forehead on her shoulder, calloused pads burying into her waist as she tended to an unpopped blister. Despite using a feather-light touch, its membrane wiggled under the ice, viscous fluid bulging.

"A few years ago... I had a family emergency, but she... She couldn't get out of work--" A pain-laced inhale interrupted him as Courtney addressed another section of burns. "Five... Five fucking states away and Dames calls... Tells me she's in the hospital. She almost--"

A subdued sob suffocated him, stray tears plopping onto her forearm. It diverted Courtney's attention, the sliver of ice in her grasp dropping to the ground as she lifted her gaze to his face. Parted lips spluttered with each jagged pant. Shallow. Clogged. Worrying. His defensives destroyed, vulnerability flickering within his water-coated irises. Their mixed blues churned, dark bleeding into light and vice versa.

Instincts brought her palm to his jaw.

Saliva sprayed onto her the second skin comforted skin as Alternate Shayne coughed on his tears, a clear product of striving to block his pain and sorrow from breaching the air. Puddles pooled on his eyelashes until overflowing lakes streamed down his cheeks, thin trails of salt collecting at his lips.

Spiraled pads pursued their tracks, cleaning traces of salt. They explored the ridges of his cheekbones and the sprinkling of stubble that divided his face. It soothed Alternate Shayne, tears drying under her touch. Thumbing his lower lip, Courtney offered him a weak smile, but he just ushered her away, pushing at her waist until she fell onto her heels. Though he maintained his hold on her, his grip lowering to her hips.

"I swore I'd never leave her again," Alternate Shayne said, gaze descending to his lap. A toss of his head lifted his watery blues to the sky as a harsh and wet laugh split his lips. "What a fucking lie that turned out to be."

"Hey! There was no way you could have seen this coming. You'd have to be psychic or something." Courtney squeezed his shoulder. Calloused spirals snaked under her shirt to dent her waistline. Kneading. Stroking. Needy. Tremors reverberated through her flesh as he scorched her. "And it's not like you'll truly be gone. Your body will still be there. Mine will still be there to watch over her."

"And what about when compulsion overrides reason. When her control slips and desperation takes hold?" His grip tightened, thumbnails etching lines into her ribcage. "He can't... He won't give her what she needs. Won't help her reach subspace--"

"Subspace?" Courtney quirked an eyebrow as she gathered another piece of ice. Slumber-impeded fingers faltered, slippery cubes eluding them. After numerous attempts, she secured one. Taking care to avoid the blisters, she focused on the puffy-crimson skin that painted his abdomen. Flesh blanched under the melting shard, muscles flinching away from her ministrations. She persisted despite this, slathering frigid water over his fire-hot body. Even without direct contact, it radiated into her fingertips.

"Think an extreme endorphin high where the world fades away. Nothing matters. Your brain just shuts off until it feels like you're floating. I could show you one day if you'd like?" A rueful smirk graced his features. He raised his hands up in surrender before replacing them on her hips. "With his permission, of course."

"She can't go without it, can she?" Courtney discarded his comment, though the prospect intrigued her.

"Not for long, no." The pads of his thumbs dug into her hipbone, following its edge to coast across her midriff. They traveled higher, scalding heat ascending plains of pristine skin to clutch her waist once more.

A lack of sleep hampered her mental faculties, clogging her rationale from shifting his hands to rest over her shirt and not under.

"It helps quiet her mind when nothing else works. When she's on the brink of a swi-- FUCK!" Alternate Shayne shouted, digits drilling into her as black leather cut into a blister and ruptured it.

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" Courtney asked, retracting the ice. His grip loosened, though she suspected that, come tomorrow, finger-shaped bruises would litter her waistline. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Please." Discomfort sharpened the whine that toppled from his lips.

Dismounting his lap, Courtney slid the empty glass aside. Sluggish. Weak. Lacking. Pebbles grated her kneecaps as she dragged herself towards him. Limp joints crashed her next to Alternate Shayne. With his wounds somewhat treated, urgency and panic dissipated to deplete her energy reserves. It clouded her awareness enough for delicate fingertips to scamper over his thigh as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"So, she hurt herself trying to get to this subspace you were talking about?" Courtney prodded him to continue. The urge to relieve his pain, distract him as she would with hers pulsed, leaking through her self-control as she kneaded his upper thigh without thought.

A distressed exhale evacuated Alternate Shayne as he drew his knees to his chest, dislodging her grasp in the process. Crossed arms capping his kneecaps, he stooped his skull to conceal his features.

"Not on purpose. An accident... She... She found my rope... Tied a makeshift harness." A sob wracked his form, shoulders quaking with each breath. "It held a little too well. She... If Dames hadn't found her. FUCK. I don't want to think about that." Nails scraped white lines across his forearms, bruising a path of red and purple where they lingered.

Utilizing the last of her power, Courtney flung his hands off and forced his legs flat in order to mount his lap and grab his face. She took care not to graze his burns, though guttural grunts alerted to her failure.

"Look at me." Forehead to forhead, she stared into his murky-blue oceans. "Focus on me as you talk and not this." She seized his forearm, jamming her thumb into one of the bruises he had made for emphasis.

Alternate Shayne gulped as he nodded.

"Sorry, I just... I'm..." Jumbled-blue orbs sank as teeth worried his bottom lip.

"You're worried she'll do it again?" Courtney directed his gaze back to her.

"I know she will... She knows it. It's why..." His words came in choppy bursts, pained mewls punctuating his breath. "She saw it coming. This switch. How she fucking knew is beyond me, but fuck, she was right. At first... We thought your boy could fill in for me and I for him. I mean, me and him? If we're just different versions of the same person, it's not cheating, right?"

Unsure of how to reply without shutting him down, Courtney shrugged.

"But I... I pushed too hard, and he..." Alternate Shayne trailed off, palms coasting up and down her thighs. She ignored the heat they produced along with the budding ache in her core. "I'm not good at making friends."

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"For now." Securing his digits to her middle, Alternate Shayne nodded. Caressing up to clutch her ribcage, he teased to go further, thumbs stroking feather-light lines under her breasts.

"St-stop," she gasped at his attention, quickly swatting him off. He obliged, though his warmth lingered on her ribs as if waiting for permission to proceed. "So, you realized my boy wouldn't work, and?"

"She... She got worried, and..." Alternate Shayne chuckled. "The one thing she's always wanted was a threesome. I suppose that's why suggesting Dames playing my surrogate came so easy to her. It's why, as much as it tears me up inside, agreeing beats the alternative." --He placed his ear to her heart.-- "It beats coming back and finding her..." Relaxation slumped his shoulders, breath steadying as he listened to her proof of life.

"You're not gone now, though..."

Her words sparked a grumble from Alternate Shayne's throat, thrusting his face to her neck. Spurred him into action, frantic open-mouthed kisses peppering her throat. In her tired haze, her reactions disappointed, and lazy slapping did little to shoo him off.

"Testing...." he said with a growl. Palms inching higher brushed her chest. "Making sure that her safety net works. That he can..." Teeth scraped her collar, fingers fastening to her breasts. Harsh. Angered. Not meant for pleasure, yet she couldn't stifle the moan that floated off her lips.

"Bunny, stop," she mewled, unable to constrain the passion he evoked. Pressure points unknown to her that his teeth engaged with ease. Instincts arched her neck to him, claws stabbing his shoulder. They intended to stop Alternate Shayne, but instead, just egged him on. _He's watching us._ "BUNNY!"

His heat vanished, affection ceasing as a ragged sob wracked his form.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Alternate Shayne chanted into her skin in a voice too faint to travel. Tear-infused saliva spewed onto her neck. _It's okay._

"She said stop, Dude."

Bruising strength constricting her bicep hauled Courtney to her feet. Flailing limbs ripped wounds open as she grappled for freedom. An accident. Sleep deprivation forgetting her surroundings with the need to return to Alternate Shayne's aid.

An agony-fueled shout sliced her gut, his anguish audible and gut-wrenching. It electrified her nerves, fogging Courtney's awareness with a mind-numbing desperation to tend to the now bleeding sores. Her efforts to reach Alternate Shayne were fruitless as the culprit gripping her arm body blocked her.

"Damien, I can handle it." Courtney huffed, pushing at the brunette's shoulder to no avail. Buckling knees promised to give. Her reservoir of energy evaporated into dust. The environment blurred for a moment, eyes crossing as focused on the red stain spreading across Shayne's pants.

_I need to stop the bleeding, need to save him._

"Like hell you can!" Damien shouted, an outstretched arm obstructing her. "You can hardly stand up!"

"Can you just... He's... He's bleeding for God's sake." Courtney tried to gesture to Alternate Shayne, who was struggling to get up, but her arm refused. "I need to. I need to. I need to." She whimpered.

"Listen to her, GODDAMIT!" Shayne. Shayne's voice.

_Back, he's back._

"Why? So you can fucking--"

_He can't tell. He thinks it's still your Alternate._

Too disoriented for words. Too focused on Shayne. Courtney's voice departed her. But fighting against Damien proved useless, weak hits and lethargic kicks the best her body could achieve.

Tears cascaded from her half-shut emeralds as she watched Shayne clamber to his feet. He seethed in pain, using the wall to support him as he staggered towards them. His pain-mangled expression indecipherable amongst the exhaustion-induced auras distorting her vision. Exhaustion had won, encroaching on her frame until it overwhelmed, and her legs gave way from underneath her.

A whirlwind of movement streaked her sight as Courtney collapsed. Darkness invaded, swallowing light. Blinking back the tears. Awareness dimming. Eyes fighting the urge to close. She lasted long enough to witness a blurry Shayne barrel towards Damien.

SMACK!

Skin connected with skin just as the world went black.


	42. Shayne

The walls of Shayne's apartment argued the moment the front door opened. Its wooden floors protested the gust of wind rushing in, and its thin walls howled in agreement. Prolonged lingering just aggravated their disapproval of Courtney, Damien, and Shayne's arrival.

House-key's in hand, Damien freed the key from Shayne's front door before entering, careful not to disrupt the unconscious Courtney draped over his back. A hunched-over Shayne hobbled in just a few steps behind. Outstretched fingers prodding into her back limited any accidental slipping. Dirtied-pink cotton concealed the skin they ached to comfort. Concern over his face-augmenting pain falling to the wayside as worrying over her took center stage.

Pain. The lone reason Shayne conceded to Damien carrying her despite the urge to play Courtney's shining knight. Despite the sounds crossed wires had allowed him to overhear anchoring his current dislike for his best friend. Something had glitched when his Alternate took over, pulses of sensory input that originated from the other world. Things he never cared to hear again, though, would stay with him to the end of time. One didn't just forget the sound of their best friend fucking their girlfriend after all.

Kicking the front door closed behind him, Shayne crumpled. Hands on knees, breathing through the pain. It escaped the confines of his lips, stilted groans licking each exhale.

"You alright, man? Let me tuck her into bed, then I can help bandage those wounds," Damien said. Nonchalant. Concerned. Acting as if nothing happened despite shades of purple blooming across his jaw. Shayne grunted his approval, too painful to articulate. He forced his feet to follow the brunette into his bedroom. Rumpled sheets and inside-out clothing. Evidence of that morning's escapades that now seemed lightyears away. "God, it smells like sex in here."

"Didn't get the chance to change the sheets before we left," Shayne said with a breathy chuckle. "Plus, it's not like we were expecting to have guests over any time soon. Least of all in my room."

"Fair enough." A hefty sigh departed Damien as he squatted, plopping Courtney onto the bed. Mumbled vowels toppled from her lips, narrowing into needy whines as she rolled onto her stomach and sprawled across the mattress.

"Now, about you." Damien diverted to Shayne. "You have any bandages? A first-aid kit?"

"Check the bathroom or the kitchen closet." As Damien shuffled out of sight, Shayne flopped next to Courtney, letting his feet hang off the mattress. His head landed a little above her waist. He craved to drown in her face, but pain forbade him from inching higher. Blue pools washed over her form. The steady rise-and-fall of her chest warming his sights. Relaxation. Elusive and unobtainable as of late. For her, and for him, though his rest mattered little in comparison.

Fingers sought her bare shin, skimming the inlet of her knee before fastening to her thigh. Fingertips kneaded knotted muscle. Soft. Tender. Gentle. Physical reassurance she needed even if unaware. Emerging patterns from these past sleepless days informed him. Something learned from previous Glimpses that lent itself to this occasion.

She rose to him, arching into his touch before slumping with a content hum.

"I love you, Bear," she slurred though still dreaming. "Love you. Love you. Love you." Her indecipherable chanting soon grew wet with tears. A sharp squeeze ended it as she nestled further into a pillow. Sound asleep once more.

"I love you too, Angel. I love you too." A twitchy simper toyed with his pain-riddled lips.

Witnessing her struggle firsthand had grieved him, though not in the manner he had anticipated. Even with Alternate Shayne's jealousy, the visible weight that burdened her overrode any malice. The effort and energy she had expended on each action. How she shutdown and shattered when Damien ignored her, both in the Diner and in the alleyway.

He owed Courtney his safety, yet his injuries prevented him from rolling her onto his stomach like he yearned to do. He owed her more than that even, what with her exhausting herself to protect him. Well, his vessel at least. His identity felt fuzzy even to himself.

_How can I make this more manageable for you?_

Callouses snuck into her shorts, massaging toned tissue. They dawdled around the seam of her cheeks. Slick. Shayne considered teasing her but cautioned against it. Sleep shenanigans still required prior consent and an empty house.

"Found these!" Damien barged in. Shayne jerked his hand away, eyeing the blue-streaked brunette loitering at the doorway. A roll of bandages, tape, a tube of Neosporin, and a bottle of ibuprofen threatened to spill from overburdened his arms. "Oh, am I interrupting?"

"No, she just fell back asleep." Violent hissing erupted as Shayne clambered to upright himself. "Throw me that?" A toss of the head signaled to the Neosporin Damien's clutches. Unsteady palms fumbled, the difference between the plastic tube smacking Courtney and him blocking its path a circumstance of millimeters. "Want to tell me about this plan while I bandage up?"

"Not much of a plan." Supplies scattered the mattress beside Shayne, the roll of gauze wheeling away. Damien snatched it before it dived off the edge, flinging it onto Shayne's lap. "Just need to test if you can drink yourself into Glimpsing."

"Thanks," Shayne said, unscrewing the Neosporin. The thick anti-bacterial ointment splurted out, translucent logs plodding onto his injuries. Slathering the balm across his abdomen evoked a current of raw, unbridled pain, but he stomached it. "Your ideas haven't exactly worked out. Choosing the Diner, twice? Plus..." Sapphires veered towards Courtney, anger boiling upon recalling the insolence Damien had shown her.

"Hey, I have my reasoning, just haven't been able to tell you because everything goes wrong before I even get the opportunity." Damien scratched his neck, cheese topping his grin. "Which, when put that way, you have a point."

Shayne's grimace twitched as he fingered the unused and sterile gauze. The starting end lay flush against the roll, its millimeters-high lip evading his grasp. Fingertips flicked it until they pinched the frayed threads tight.

A quick yank unraveled the barrel.

Wrinkles creased Shayne's features, mangling smooth plains into a crippling wince as he wrapped the dressing around his midriff. He suffered through the agony each arm movement bestowed, swatting away Damien's offered assistance.

"I'm sorry, okay? I got ahead of myself back there, but this effects me too, you know?" Contrition coated Damien's tongue. Curved shoulders projected a timid and unintimidating demeanor. Small. Meek. Apologetic. Opposite the disrespectful ass that berated Courtney just an hour or so ago. It neglected to mitigate the raging storm within Shayne, the sound of Alternate Damien plowing his girlfriend's Alternate whipping his skull. "Okay, so I fucked up big time. I was just trying to look out for you and for her. You're my best friend, so forgive me for being scared shitless."

"Could have fooled me." Canines spearing the gauze ripped the bandage off the roll. The torn end clenched between teeth, Shayne palmed around the bedding in search of the tape. "A little help here?" He shoved his findings at Damien, who tore two pieces and, one by one, handed them over.

"Okay, you got me. I came off a bit too strong at the Diner. I'm sorry," Damien confessed, perching on the bed next to Shayne. "All I'm asking is for you to at least give it a shot? You know, before the clock catches up, and I'm stuck with that douche." A somber sigh drooped his skull. "Before I lose you."

"Fine, but I swear to God, if anything goes wrong, you're off research duties." With the bandages secured, Shayne perused the pile of supplies for the Motrin. Red hills all-but obscured the container from his sights, bunched-up sheets proving an effective hiding place.

"Nothing will go wrong, trust me. Either you blackout and wake up with a hangover, or you Glimpse. Simple." Damien cocked his head.

"You ever hear of alcohol poisoning?" Shayne popped the bottle open and chucked a few pills down. "Plus, when has this Glimpsing thing ever been simple?"

"Seems easy enough for her." Damien nodded to Courtney. It irked Shayne. Even lacking information, his best friend should know better than to label it easy. He should recognize the toll it took on her body. The exhaustion. The lack of mobility. The increase in fragility. All things written in their journal entries.

_She can barely walk when she returns, you idiot._

"Plus, seeing as no matter how stressed Courtney gets, she doesn't Glimpse, the chances of it actually succeeding are slim." Damien shot to his feet. "Okay, now that that's over, I cannot handle spending another second of this stench."

"Fine, but I'm not leaving her."

"Still can't believe you punched me," Damien said, an icepack pressed to his jaw as he straddled the back of a chair.

Across from him, Shayne hunkered on the couch, Courtney draping his legs —courteous of Damien's help. Her face buried in the cushions and stomach flush to his thighs. Faint snores indicated her slumber. They had for a while, her repose lasting long enough for Shayne to debrief Damien on everything from the Alternate's unconventional love life to the recent development regarding his lack of fear. The only thing left to divulge was her latest Glimpse and its subsequent aftermath. Her condition. Her struggle. Her transgression. What instigated this whole debacle.

"Well, you kind of deserved it," Shayne scoffed, soothing her back. Friction hiked the muddied-pink shirt up to pool at her shoulder blades, revealing the blossoming, finger-sized abrasions lining her waist. Any attempt to tow the material down resulted in whimpered protests, her necessity for skin contact breaching sleep. "She warned you like three times to drop it, and you still couldn't bother to listen to her."

"I apologized already, didn't I?" Damien remarked, tone drenched in remorse.

Mapping the grooves of her vertebrae down untouched skin, Shayne fanned his hand across Courtney's lower back, fingertips sneaking under the waistband of her shorts. The urge to grasp her, wake her up, and reclaim her. To override Alternate Shayne's accidental brands. FUCK. He would ask Damien to leave if not for the confusion muddying the air.

For the fact that he punched him. For the fact that moving Courtney, let alone himself, seemed impossible without excruciating pain.

Desperate to alleviate the surge of foreign jealousy coursing through his veins, Shayne drilled into muscle. Courtney backed into him, breath hitching before stretching out and collapsing once more. The sofa muffled her sleep-slurred 'I love you.' Adorableness elicited a chuckle from his lips.

_So you sleep talk, do you?_

"Like a billion times, still wouldn't have happened had you just trusted her and dropped it." Sapphire knives, slicing through Damien, accompanied the stern timbre of his raised voice. "These wouldn't be here." Shayne cupped the string of bruises, disregarding Courtney's pained whine. It tapered into pleasure-filled mewls —faint and inaudible to anyone but him— that tightened his grip. "I wouldn't have these fucking burns."

"I'm sorry. It's just... I thought I was protecting you." Damien bowed, attention fixing to his dangling forearms. Large hands milked them of his stress. Tossing his head, the brunette boy smiled. Strained. Tense. Authentic. "How was I supposed to know you were okay with it? I mean, I'd be pretty cross seeing my so-called girlfriend fawning over another guy, and it's not like I knew about this weird threesome agreement."

"And the alleyway, when she begged to be let go?" Shayne capped the handprint-shaped bruise circling Courtney's bicep. The mark he hated the most.

Silence settled between them with a heaviness that neither desired to lift. Seconds turned to minutes. Just Shayne's labored breaths and Courtney's soft snores. A car honking or distant sirens broke it now and then, but nothing else. Nothing.

Half-aware of the brunette's presence, a calloused pad vaulted from mark to mark along Courtney's waistline. The mental anguish of Alternate Shayne's recollection lingered. Distress and despair had overwhelmed, Shayne reliving the foreign memory alongside his counterpart. Second-hand experiences assimilated as first-hand encounters. It shifted his perspective on their dynamic, on their co-dependency, and on Alternate Shayne's insistence that Courtney's support system extending beyond just Damien and Olivia.

_You wouldn't ever do something that foolish, would you?_

"If she... Nevermind." Shayne bit his lip, glancing down at the blonde.

_You'd probably prefer Olivia check in on you now, wouldn't you?_

"Dude, really? Again? This whole thing started with you two keeping secrets from me, remember?" Damien dropped the ice pack on the coffee table. Its loud thud emphasized his irritation. "Which I still don't understand, by the way. So actually, let's start there."

"We were embarrassed, okay?" Shayne's voice leaped an octave. "What were we supposed to say? Oh yeah, your Alternate is fucking his fiance, so watch out? We didn't even have all the information until today, for Christ's sake. Still don't, really." Saliva trickled down his throat, those torturous sounds reemerging. Screams of pain. Leather slapping skin. Muted pleasure punctuated with masculine grunts. Shaking it off, he gulped the wad of spit threatening suffocation and breathed.

_Will I have to suffer through that again?_

"Plus, we didn't think the sexual stuff was important. Not for figuring this all out, at least." Shayne shrugged.

A breathy chuckle morphed into a pain-laced wince as Courtney snuggled closer, grazing his burns. Even Shayne's best acting skills failed to conceal the agony marring his features, teeth struggling to contain the grueling sounds frantic to breach. Yet the idea of readjusting her position never popped into his brain, instincts yearning to cloak himself in her. To haul Courtney onto his abdomen as he had done so many times before.

"Maybe I should take her to bed." Damien swung his leg over the chair and stood up, crossing the coffee table.

"NO!" Shayne held on for dear life. Digits burrowing into her midriff wrenched Courtney closer until she half-rested atop his abdomen. The pain never registered despite her digging into fresh wounds. Upon Damien's gestured surrender -- as he retreated to the chair, Shayne slouched over the blonde's limp and lithe frame. "It's just... If she wakes without me... I don't want her getting scared. Think the worst. Spiral out into another meltdown. Somehow I think she's taking this harder than me."

Callouses caressed the small of her back, each pad kneading tiny rolls. Her appreciation vibrated into his legs, faint purring resounding through Courtney and into Shayne. It cast a warm smile across Shayne's face, stress releasing for the time being.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm beginning to think I'm asking too much of her." Shayne tangled his fingers in her hair, toying with golden threads until they curtained her upper back. Tips traced pleats of pink bunching at her ribcage, dancing atop their peaks before scampering onto skin once more. Blue pools tracked their paths, too insecure to meet Damien's stare. "No, not beginning to, I knew I was... I mean, I nearly..."

"Broke up with her. You wrote it in your journal, remember?"

"She's been struggling to tell us apart." Words tasted bitter as Shayne strummed over her bruises. "Since Ian's New year's party, maybe sooner? The when doesn't matter. Just wished she would have told me sooner." A deep inhale delayed him. It disgusted him to divulge a story that belonged to Courtney, to discuss her without her knowledge, without her presence. Still, he proceeded, needing to vent.

"Her last Glimpse, I guess they were trying to have sex?" Shayne shivered, that night pervading his thoughts. The night that fragmented her completely. "At least, that's what I've gathered. She breaks whenever I push for details."

"Like the alternates or her and?"

"The alternates... She just Glimpsed into it...Onto him..." He maneuvered Courtney closer, swallowing the pain to indulge in her heat. "He was crying, and she... She got confused and kissed him." Fingertips jabbed into Alternate Shayne's brands, stirring Courtney into a pained moan. Her hips canted up, and his hand shot to her ass, driving her back down before she embarrassed herself. Habit, infused with foreign, slipped his fingers under her shorts, kneading muscle and sneaking between to graze her heat.

"Dude, not in front of me."

"Sorry," Shayne said, though he decided against removing his hand. It felt normal like it belonged despite it never being a go-to handhold. "Just habit, his habit. Suppose that's new."

"And that doesn't scare you? Interesting." Damien pulled on his chin, similar to how a bearded wizard deep in thought would. "So, she kissed him?"

"She kissed him, and I can't blame her. Not when she hates herself enough already." His heart sank at the reminder of her self-loathing that plagued the last few days. One breakdown after the other. The littlest of things setting her off.

"This is the first time she's slept like really slept in the past two days." Petting down her shoulder blades, Shayne relished the soft snores that intimated her sleep. "Too stressed. Too overcome with guilt. Just when I think we're past it, she shatters all over again. I know things like this take time, but I can't take seeing her so broken.

"And I don't know what to do, leaving her like this isn't an option. Not with her stuck with him, she'll fret over every action. Paranoia micro-managing her behavior. I saw it on her face as she tended to him." Shayne clamped his lips, melancholy creeping in alongside the memory of her comforting his Alternate.

The energy spent on each decision had painted her face as she iced his burns. Each touch clearly calculated to the best of her sleep-deprived ability. Speckled fear and hesitation. The only natural, unquestioned acts the ones laced with exhaustion, and the ones affection had evoked.

"She'll be worried about betraying me, about every interaction with him, about your judgment and disapproval." Shayne's pointed glare prompted Damien to cower. An act made in jest that nevertheless held truth. "Hell, I'm ninety-nine percent certain when she wakes up, she'll dive right into another meltdown. A life of fear is no way to live."

"You aren't thing about breaking up with her again, are you?" Damien hit a nerve. "I thought you were done running away."

"Suddenly you care about her feelings, really?" Shayne dug his fingers into her flesh. "He'll just take over and stop me if I tried. Not that I even want to. She's my world, and I love her too much to give up on us over this. Plus, I'll still have Cor-Cor duties, or did you forget?"

"Just trying to understand, Bud."

"Maybe I'm losing it." Shayne sprawled back across the couch, hand still bolted to her back. "Maybe I'm wrong, but it somehow feels like chaining her to me will destroy us. We've already agreed to their proposal. A nonsexual arrangement, but I suppose what is and isn't considered platonic varies depending on who's asked. The same goes for cheating apparently, though that probably only applies to this specific situation."

"I'm not following," Damien interjected. "Cheating is cheating, right?"

"Something he said in the alley." Blonde thread curtained his palm as Shayne leafed through Courtney's locks. "Something about it not really being unfaithful since he and I are just altered versions of the same self and vice versa."

"To his twisted mind, maybe." Damien rolled his eyes. "You really think you can trust that perverted ass with her?"

"She trusts him." Knuckles caressed the peaks of cherry cheeks, tidying locks of golden string behind her ear. "And I trust her. Completely. I know reason says I shouldn't. That she already technically cheated on me, but fuck it, she was honest about it. Now I don't know if I buy into his whole different versions theory of his, but maybe I should, for her sake. I mean, I've always been the monogamous type, but..."

"It would make it easier on her," Damien finished for him. His understanding surprised Shayne, but he didn't dare question it.

"This is crazy? I'm crazy, right?" Shayne squeaked. "I don't even know if she'd want it. And we've been together for what, a month? A little early to even be considering this, don't you think?"

"You're on an expedited timeline, so what? It can't hurt to ask, can it?"

Shayne glanced down just as Courtney rolled over, limps flopping every which way. Eyes sealed and mouth agape. Peaceful. Undisturbed. Serene.

_I want to preserve this, even at my own cost._

"I guess not."


	43. Shayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: smut

Faint snores and sporadic whimpers bounced off Shayne's bedroom walls. Shafts of moonlight streamed through slotted blinds that masked the window. Its iridescent light painted Courtney's sprawled-out form lying supine across his bed. Limbs strewn in every direction, laundered pink-satin sheets cradling her. A picture-perfect memory that infatuated Shayne.

Pleats of plaid gathered at her hips exposed long expanses of toned, muscular legs that twitched and flexed as she dreamed. A fresh, oversized T-shirt now coated her frame. White folds bunched up to reveal purple blotches that transversed her ribcage, stopping at concealed breasts. Serenity softened her features. The steady rise and fall of her chest the lone indicator of life. Too lost to her dreams to wake when soiled garments were exchanged for clean clothes.

The task had riddled Shayne with pain, straining his wet still-forming scabs. Rustic-brown stains caking his bandages evidenced their first rupture. Though fresh bright-red now obscured them, a result of peeling blood-stiffened jeans from uncooperative legs. It made dressing Courtney seem painless in comparison.

Baggy grey-cotton sweats allotted Shayne a friction-less gate, loose fabric brushing his boxer-less nether as he paced. A product of necessity after bequeathing Courtney his last clean pair.

Hours had passed since then, occurring closer to Damien's hasty departure than to whatever time the clock on his nightstand showed now. Hours spent enamored in Courtney's image as he waited for her to awaken, for the panic attack that promised to follow. Hours left to his own devices. Hours he used to delve into the chaotic jumble occupying his mind. An appreciated breather after this hectic week.

At least the pain had dissipated, the second round of over-the-counter pills taking the edge off. It enabled Shayne to move without doubling over, though not enough to lay Courtney across his stomach. Her favorite resting place ruined for the foreseeable future. Two to three weeks to be precise. The minimum healing period the internet predicted.

Almost a month of navigating pain and discomfort that a previous occurrence foretold devolving into intense itchiness and irritation. Agitation that no amount of scratching quelled. A minuscule part of Shayne hoped to switch before reaching that stage, let his Alternate suffer the worst of it.

The burns set a timetable at least. Everything delayed until Shayne's recuperation sustained a level safe enough to proceed with Damien's plan. Until holding her tight became painless. The biggest problem he now faced. The one he needed to circumvent before she roused into an all-but-guaranteed meltdown.

His inability to crush Courtney against him limited Shayne's options for prolonged and sustained pressure. The fastest way to quiet her panic and get her to listen. Something learned through experience. Though stomaching the pain would be manageable once settled, the risk of wound reopening if she started to squirm dismissed the option entirely, and draping her across his lap once again just seemed impractical if it even worked.

Broaching the topic of opening their relationship intimidated Shayne further. The prospect churned his gut, sloshing against membrane in a nauseating manner. Even if Courtney wanted it, he expected push-back, for her guilt-deluded self to perceive his proposal as coddling. For her to cover her desire to preserve face and patronize him. Breaking down her barriers, bypassing any argument, it presented a near impossible venture to conquer when reasoning eluded and doubt prevailed. 

_Why? Why am I choosing this? Why does this feel right?_

Open relationships revolved around trust, something logic dictated shouldn't exist after her transgression yet endured without faltering. Intuition. A hunch. A gut feeling. Something enabled it to survive. Something beyond Courtney's heart-wrenching display of remorse. Something deep down that designated his trust as warranted. It danced on the tip of his tongue yet never jumped. This unknown fueled uncertainty. 

Hang-ups and reservations surrounded his hastened decision. One his heart promoted against all rationale. One Shayne still grappled with despite resolved to go through with it. Sharing her. Something sidelined just a week ago forced under the spotlight. It tasted sour, yet tastebuds ignored the acidity, too entrenched in concern for her. For her stability. For her constitution that wavered under the weight of his burden. 

What he claimed the motivating factor but now questioned as he coveted another option. 

_There doesn't seem to be another way. Not without breaking hearts._

Pausing his pacing, Shayne fiddled with the cord encircling his throat. The black leather slid between sandpaper pads until its metallic clasp crisped his skin. Their original-now-obsolete solution regulated to distinguishing nothing but appearances. He wished it did more. That it aided Courtney like Cor-Cor's collar aided him.

_It's enough for me. What am I not seeing?_

Shayne pushed off the ball of his foot, stalking back and forth in front of the bed as he sifted through their differences. Aspects of her experience with Glimpsing that neglected to apply to his. Lists of surface-level variations emerged but nothing significant. Nothing to explain his intuition-driven conclusion. It pushed to surpass the obvious.

Beyond her drinking and his stress. Beyond the pressure of the outside world. Beyond maintaining appearances. Beyond it all. An itinerary of items arose, and distinctions began to appear. Contrasting characteristics between Courtney and her Alternate. Quirks and personalities defined and immiscible. No blurred traits or incorporated instincts to parcel through unlike him.

One major detail stood out. Unlike Courtney, who dealt with Alternate Shayne both here and in the parallel universe, Shayne never encountered Alternate Courtney in their world, never babysat the unpredictable brat while fretting about Courtney monitoring every touch and interaction. He never suffered that pressure.

_It must feel like my trust in you is always in question. Now more so than ever._

A quiet snore diverted his attention to Courtney as she curled into the fetal position. Shayne smiled, sauntering over to drag the blankets over her shivering form.

"I love you, Angel," Shayne said, crawling onto the bed. "I never meant to worry you like that." Kissing her cheek, he hesitated to extract himself. Weight braced on flattened palms, sapphires drowned in angelic beauty, soaking up smooth lines and contoured edges. He ignored the baggy pouches carved under her eyes. Placing another kiss to her temple, Shayne scrambled to his feet.

_I wonder what I look like now._

Heavy footfalls echoed through the hallway until Shayne faced the floor-to-ceiling mirror that coated his kitchen closet's door. Sights circled the darkness that eclipsed his jumbled irises. They seemed darker now, light centers almost unnoticeable to the untrained eye. Not surprising, the darkened speckles encroached more and more onto the light's territory as his soul incorporated more of Alternate Shayne's. Each Glimpse. Each interaction. Each time their souls touched. Another part transferred over. A pattern he had noticed.

Spirals pads coasted across the reflective glass, smearing his face. Soon Alternate Shayne's soul would dominate both his mind and appearance, and Shayne supposed the same could be said for his Alternate.

_Am I even me anymore?_

Without Damien's looming presence tainting Shayne's emotional context and skewing his perception of Courtney and Alternate Shayne's interaction, his focus jumped to Alternate Shayne. His mental constitution. The pathetic mop reminiscent of himself. Characteristics he once identified as that his Alternate now displayed.

Fear. Vulnerability. Submissiveness. Maybe more.

Little pieces of himself that he recognized within his Alternate back at the alley. The version that Courtney witnessed and trusted.

_You're attracted to the pieces of me now coursing through him, aren't you? FUCK._

It validated his trust in her.

_You're finding me in him._

A faint whimper launched Shayne to his bedroom, urgency pumping through his veins as he sprinted. He couldn't let her wake to an empty room.

Upon finding Courtney still fast asleep, he skidded at the threshold. Cheek pressed to a pillow, she now dozed on her stomach. Restless. Unsettled. Serenity broken. The shield of pink insulating her form had slid off, shivers consuming her once more. Another whine escaped as frantic feet kicked at the forgotten bedding before she succumbed to curling into herself.

"Bear," Courtney slurred, his pet-name wet with the threat of tears.

Clambering onto the bed, Shayne secured the blanket and eased it up her form. The temptation to trail affection up her back pricked his tongue, but he resisted. Inch by inch, pink hills concealed creamy skin and angry purple blotches until he arrived at tangled golden threads. Sleepy hips knocking his rewarded him.

"Hush, Angel," he said, evading her squirming.

Courtney rolled over, arm hitting his shoulder as she stretched. Flopping onto her back, she smacked her lips before sinking back into a soundless slumber.

Shayne chuckled, rearranging the blanket once more. Loose fists poked out from the rumpled fabric to lay beside her cheeks, arms bent at 90-degree angles. Blonde fanned around sleep-polished features. Now and then, dreams scrunched her nose, sweet nothings and nonsensical babble toppling from her lips. Time stilled as he stroked invisible strands back, thumb smoothing her temples time and time again.

Appetite satisfied, and her breathing steady, Shayne rolled off to stare at the ceiling. Thoughts swirled inside his skull, a disordered cacophony in desperate need of sorting. They once again returned to the alleyway, parsing out Alternate Shayne's story. Any details that offered background on Alternate Courtney. The one destined to be his charge.

Fingers scoured wrinkled cotton until they discovered her lithe digits and laced.

Though he had ascertained her self-harm tendencies, Shayne failed to gauge the severity. To know, even if unintentional, her behavior almost surmounted in death, it added another level of responsibility, another layer to their dependency, one he worried veered towards toxicity. 

It at least verified his initial assertion that this arrangement came out of requirement. Hearing the proposed dynamic in action, however, posed another onslaught of questions, and comprised the other instigator for opening their relationship.

_I don't know if I can handle hearing that again, but can I even give whatever this subspace thing is?  
_

Palming his nightstand, Shayne grabbed his MacBook and placed it on his lap. Its black screen mirrored his features before hastiness pushed the power button. He navigated the user interface, clumsy fingers directing the arrow-shaped cursor across the desktop to double-tap the FireFox application. A few clicks later pulled a private browsing window up before single plunges of keys commenced his research.

With the initial Google search of 'subspace' resulting in a list of links relating to mathematics and definitions, digits prodded the keyboard. Four appended letters —BDSM— narrowed the site's findings to something more in line with Alternate Shayne's description. Blue orbs skimmed article after article until the artificial glow stung, and eyelids begged to descend.

From what he gathered, Alternate Shayne's account, albeit vague and unspecific, conveyed the general aspect of the experience. It just failed to encompass the mechanisms behind it. That endorphins rush. This meditative-adjacent state that pertained to Alternate Courtney's coping mechanisms. The mind-numbing sensation that he had described as flying. It was a natural high produced through safe and consensual encounters that employed a mixture of pleasure and pain.

_Well, that explains the screaming..._

More in-depth reports concentrated on the biological components behind this pain and pleasure dynamic. Brain chemistry. Things his psychology courses glossed over as he wasn't on the psychiatric track.

 _FUCK. School... Break ends soon. Just another thing to worry about, I guess._..

Shayne's head hit the headboard with a loud thud.

Eyes shot to Courtney, and relief emptied his lungs. Still asleep. A soft chuckle tumbled from his lips despite the discomfort radiating from his torso.

Too engrossed in his research to notice, Courtney now cradled his side. Leg straddling his hip, fingers balled atop his pec. Hot puffs of air warmed his neck, yet somehow she had managed to stay clear of the laptop and his wounds, body arching similar to a clam shell.

Carding his fingers through her hair, Shayne shut his laptop and set it on his bedside table. Muscle slithered beneath her head as he urged the sleeping beauty to snuggle up, maneuvering her front to rest flush against his side. She nestled her face against his neck. Soft snores tickled the hairs on his neck, and he grinned.

Gaze lifting to the ceiling and fingers playing with her hair, Shayne basked in her heat as he revisited his research. The pain and pleasure aspect intrigued him.

Studies involving brain scans and fancy medical procedures linked the two sensory inputs to the same endorphins — the body's natural pain relievers. Proteins that bound to opioid receptors and blocked pain, spilling into neighboring regions of the brain, spheres responsible for intense pleasure.

Subspace was the product of exploiting this. Using the infliction of both pain and sexual pleasure to induce an overwhelming euphoria. Of course, exceptions existed, the pleasurable element only viable under the notion of there being no inherent risk of substantial damage. Still, this euphoric state, Shayne supposed it served as pseudo-self-medicating for Alternate Courtney — just without any intoxicating substance.

The precise way she got there still remained mysterious, methods too broad to narrow with his lacking information.

_I guess I'll have to ask him..._

A deep yawn lowered his eyelids, bulk crushing Courtney closer. He pined to haul her onto his stomach, fall asleep heart to heart, but even just her thigh brushing burns ignited Shayne with pleasure-less pain. For now, he adjusted her leg, nesting his nose in her locks and surrendering to slumber.

Scorching heat scalded his groin, the first thing he noticed upon waking. The thing that woke him. Firm, cloth-coated pressure milked in time to passion-laced gasps that intercut the moistness peppering his neck. Fluttering his eyes open, he acknowledged Courtney now very much awake. Stroking him through his sweatpants. Making out with his neck.

"Couldn't wait for me to wake up?" he murmured in jest, morning fog forgetting her fragility.

Fire vanished, a blur of blonde flying away. Though his arm hooked around her shoulders prevented Courtney's escape.

"Sorry, I just thought... I saw that you... I just... I..." Courtney stammered, bowed head, and avoidant eyes. A soft hiccup unleashed trickling streams down her cheeks. "Please don't hate me. I was just. I was just looking out for you. The burns. Let me. Let me make it up to you."

"Courtney, look at me," Shayne instructed, shifting to his side. Watery greens locked on to him, shallow breaths dividing lips. Dipping in, he stole a kiss as he snatched her hand and towed it to his nether. "This." He guided her grip in long, languid strokes. "I don't mind waking up to this. Fuck. I don't mind at all." He ceased their movement, extracting her digits. "But not in this headspace, remember what you said last week? That you don't want fear contaminating this?"

She nodded, burying her tear-stained features in his pecs.

Some cheesy Netflix original projected a flickering glow across Shayne's living room. It accompanied the morning's sun flooding in from the uncurtained window, long shafts that irradiated dust particles floating in the air.

The scent of eggs, bacon, and coffee wafted through the room as Shayne perched atop the couch, combing curls of blonde. Tucked between his shins, Courtney squatted on the area rug a tad hunched-over. Two half-filled mugs and a crumb-splattered plate sat before her on the coffee table. The leftover remnants of her breakfast.

With her predicted spiral averted, an unusual-but-welcomed tranquility befell them. Closing his eyes, the world disappeared, false normalcy eradicating the plague of distress regarding his sealed fate. The chaos controlling their lives gone. An instance of serenity he yearned to preserve but was destined to break upon breaching that dreaded topic.

Stirring unfastened the sand cementing his sapphire gems, enticing his sights to the devious smirk illuminating Courtney as she twisted to Shayne. Wandering hands stroked up fields of grey cotton, pads digging into muscle until they halted at his hips. Emeralds fixated on the pitched tent sitting square upon his groin. Still there from earlier's rendezvous.

Gold whipped the air as she shook her head, heat scouring past grey to examine his bandages. Deep browns and rusty reds now soddened their exterior. Drainage caked their muddied fibers in a stiff, grainy deposit.

"We should probably change these..." she mused, voice faint. A breathy whisper he almost missed. Tender. Gentle. Cautious. Courtney plucked at the tape, unrolling an end until it curled into a cylinder.

"Angel, stop." Snagging her hands, he guided Courtney to straddle his lap before arranging her palms on his shoulder. With her settled, callouses clutched her hips, tips skimming the purple brands marring milky skin. "Courtney, look at me." —She obeyed.— "I don't need you taking care of me. Not right now. Not when you just collapsed from doing just that 24 hours ago."

"I'm fine. I just slept, what? Twelve hours? More?" she insisted, feathery touches gliding down his collar. Pads teased his nipples on their descent, rolling the dime-sized bud before continuing their mission. "These." Courtney palmed his wounds, causing Shayne to cringe. "These need to be redressed before they get infected. Before bacteria festers."

"I'll change them myself, then." Shayne cupped her jaw, thumb swiping her lower lip. The chapped flesh gave to his touch, a little valley forming to cradle him before he pitched in for a taste. "Rested or not, I don't need you worrying yourself sick over me again."

"This is my fault, Shayne. Mine. I fucked up. I couldn't. I couldn't protect you. Couldn't stop him from storming out. Couldn't stop his hands. His mouth. Our promise." Courtney dropped her forehead to his chest. "Don't think I'm stupid. I know what yesterday looked like, so let me fix this."

"Do you remember what you said about crossing that bridge?" Shayne carded his digits in her tresses to cup the nape of her neck.

"No!" She blurted out, palm slamming into him. "No. No. No. You're enough. Enough for me. I'll do better. I'll be better. I promise."

"More than enough, I'm sure of that." Shayne steered her greens to him as he bucked into her to emphasize his double meaning. "Hell, we wouldn't even be having this discussion. Not without these Glimpses. Without the chaos. No Alternates, just us. Forever. But it—"

"No buts." Courtney shoved her hand into his pants, fingers constricting his erection. Hard. Purposeful. More painful than pleasant. "There doesn't have to be any buts. I can work harder. We can figure something out. We don't need to—"

"FUCK!" He shouted as her nail stabbed his glands. "Courtney, we do. We really DO need to TALK about it." His voice wavered with her ministrations, volume matching peaks of pleasure. "This is more than just you trying harder. More than just— FUCK if you don't stop that right now, I swear to God, I am going to tie you up."

She swiped his tip.

"I'm warning you." Shayne furrowed his brow until she complied. Rosy-pink bloomed, tipping the points of her upturned lips. "I know it's uncomfortable. It's uncomfortable for me too, but you're struggling even with the necklace."

He closed his eyes.

"And I don't want to be the reason for your unravel."

"You won't be. I'll get stronger. Be stronger for you. I'll prove it to you. Just watch. Just watch." Pleasure dripped from her tongue, lacing her breath in a hitched whimper. She planted a hand on his shoulder, weight lightening. Brief and momentary, but enough to pique his curiosity.

Hooded emeralds greeted him, passion-clouded irises gesturing for his gaze to lower. Friction supported her silent instruction until Shayne submitted to Courtney's desire.

He gulped.

Folds of plaid outlined unseen digits toying with herself. They moved in tandem to undulating hips as Courtney rocked her core against him. For a moment, Shayne lost himself to the sight. Captivated. Fascinated. Enamored in small details that printed on his memory.

Toned muscle trembled. Thighs straightening, clenching. Clenching him. Clenching that hand. The culprit responsible for her sheen-coated midriff, a sliver of skin white cotton left exposed. 

Fingers strummed his palm to quiet the urge to rip her boxers off and expose her to his hungry sights.

Swallowing, Shayne lifted his gaze across wrinkled fabric, tracing her curves until the arch of her neck graced his vision. Each stifled moan rippled up her throat, luring blue pools higher. Parted lips glistened, a thin film of saliva accentuating plump red flesh. Spiked ivories speared into them between sporadic, gasped-out moans.

"You like to watch me, don't you?" Lust-consumed eyes locked on to Shayne as Courtney grinded down upon his leaking member. Grey cloth now a shade darker, damp from his pre-coital emittance.

"More than just like." Shayne nodded, mouth dry and desperate to be quenched. A truth he omitted from himself. One that extended beyond just witnessing her masturbate. One, he wasn't ready to admit to just yet.

"Let's take this to the bedroom, hmm?" Pitching in, she nibbled at his earlobe. "Forget this talk. I'll put on a show." Teeth scraped the shell of his ear. "Give those eyes something to really drool about."

Her words extinguished the flames scalding his body, driving his fingers into her hips.

"Courtney." Shayne gritted out, stalling her movement. It failed to hinder her from tugging at the waistline to her boxers. "Courtney, stop. We need to talk. About yesterday. About our future. About—"

In a last-ditch effort to sidetrack him, she slipped into his pants. Skin touching skin. Too tight. Too firm. Desperate.

"Don't say I didn't I warn you." Shayne seized her wrists and jerked them behind her back. The act flattened Courtney against his stomach, evoking spikes of pain to infiltrate his form. Teeth jailed agony from the air. "Stand up."

Leaning back enough for blonde to tickle his chest, Courtney pouted as she wiggled. A clear try to sustain friction that crashed against his injuries. Shayne funneled every ounce of strength into masking the sky-rocketing levels of pain searing his flesh, but it still distorted his features, disturbing the air with an abrupt yelp. 

"I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to you. I just." Courtney sloped back, disconnecting from his wounds.

"That's why I said stand up, Angel. This isn't just about you," Shayne hissed, yanking to emphasize his demand. A curtain of blond shielded her crimson-smeared features as Courtney dismounted, and he paralleled her, retaining his grasp on her wrists all the way. "If it was, I'd have given in already."

Nose to nose, he jammed their joined paws into the small of her back, arching Courtney away from his stomach while forcing their hips together. An awkward back-bend that teased out a sharp, pleasure-infused gasp that pleased his ears.

Shayne couldn't help but steal a glance at her form. Mouthwatering expanses of skin that inverted with her every breath. It moistened his tongue, blue adventuring to where white pleats pooled under her breasts. Pebbled buds strained against her blouse, a temptation too tantalizing to resist.

Swooping down, he clamped his lips around the cotton-clad nipple, earning a wanton cry.

"Now, what did I say about those wandering hands of yours?" He mumbled against her.

A guttural moan answered, sound waves reverberating through her chest and onto his tongue.

"Words, Angel." Ivories sank into satin skin, torquing the sensitive bud. He gauged his pressure on her lustful whines, easing up whenever pain overrode pleasure.

"You said you'd tie me up, and—"

"Is that what you want? Or do you think you can behave yourself long enough to have this conversation; because, it's happening, one way or the other."

"Tie me up, just let me stay yours." Her knees shuddered, buckling as Shayne ripped her shirt up and let his tongue connect with heated flesh.


	44. Courtney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Smut

Passion scorched Courtney, wrists still secured behind her back as Shayne escorted her to his bedroom. Constricting pressure neared the cusp of distress, fueling her already pulsating core. Hot, moisture-laden breath condensing on her neck thrilled, rocketing her hunger tenfold. This blazing desire countered the uncertainty that corrupted her brain, a week's accumulation of anxieties that resided just beneath the surface.

_You're breaking up with me. I crossed that bridge, and now you're breaking up with me._

Worries over yesterday outlasted Courtney's slumber, spinning into paranoia that gave way to guilt. Any and all displays of commitment distorted into misshapen recollections that kindled a fear of abandonment. Its flames raged against her lust. A destructive conflagration that passion smothered, the tips of guilt's flickering wisps just peeking through. They goaded Courtney to provoke, searching for the reaction delusions told her she deserved. Aiming to push her now worthless self away.

"Say toaster, and this stops, got it?" Shayne broke the silence, his melodic sonority brimming with adoration. It softened her fortitude, slipping past lust-clouded goggles to strain through a guilt-woven filter. Misconstrued kindness tampered her flames.

_Stop placating me. I don't deserve it, not anymore._

"Isn't that supposed to be my line, Bunny Bear?" Courtney quipped.

"What did you just call me?" Harshness punctuated Shayne's question. A powerful jerk to her wrists tripped Courtney's feet, halting her just before crossing the threshold. His dominance stoked Courtney's flame, melting her need until it pooled between legs. A guilt-free moment and she craved more.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Wrong answer." Shayne jammed gathered wrists into Courtney until her back arched, and her head landed on his shoulder. The tender love that swirled through miscolored-blue enthralled, polishing the harsh edges of frustration tinting his brow. "Now, what did you just call me?"

"Bunny Bear?" Courtney taunted, a giggle escaping her pout. "Bear Bunny just sounds weird."

"You think you're cute, don't you?" Playfulness torched Shayne's otherwise caustic timbre as he pushed Courtney towards the bed. "Think you can put on that little pout of yours and get away with anything?" A sharp yelp split her lips as Shayne spanked her. Hard enough to send spikes of pain rippling through muscle. Hard enough to sting. Knees buckled, a wanton mewl escaping as slickness trickled.

"Again." Courtney backed into his hand, now kneading the burning sensation away. Disappointment responded as gentle massaging persisted.

"If I give you this, will you listen?" A firm squeeze teased, spirals dipping in to scorch her core before releasing Courtney upon reaching the bed.

"What's there to listen to? That I'm not good enough for you? That I'm not enough? That I—"

Shayne shoved her onto the mattress, catching her before she crash-landed on her face. Palms scorching her hips wrenched Courtney into a kneeling position before callouses yanked her wrists behind her once again. The angle pitched her forward until torsion infiltrated bone. A dull ache that purring biceps lessened as they stretched. Lust contaminated whimpers emptied from her throat.

"That doesn't answer my question, Angel." A harsh chuckle rasped her skin as Shayne exchanged her wrists for her chin, towing her upright to dangle a scarf in her face. "Because I'm sick of the bullshit, Courtney. I'm sick of you believing you don't deserve me. Sick of your deflection. You know, I still trust you, but I don't think you trust yourself anymore. So tell me, will you listen if I give you this?" He wiggled the scarf.

"A cheating whore like me doesn't deserve your trust." Courtney ducked from his gaze.

Firm, punishing movements bound her wrists together, circling cool cloth until a singular wrap secured each one, locking them together behind her back. Squirming told Courtney deliberate effort could loosen their loops enough to escape, an option she dismissed for the time being. Though she second-guessed herself upon learning that, without Shayne's grasp stabilizing her, their binding warped her balance, plunging her towards the mattress.

"Angel, you're everything I need and more." Sandpaper seizing her elbow prevented Courtney from tipping over. "I just wish you could see that."

Radiating heat scorched, a warmth void of skin contact permeating Courtney's back. It arose from careful positioning aimed at avoiding his burns as Shayne curled around Courtney to arrange a pillow on the bed.

Piqued curiosity dared emeralds to seek sapphires.

"I suppose I'll just have to show you." Shayne smirked, liberating her.

Calves tensing and abdominal wall flexing, Courtney battled gravity as she strove to stay upright. Her struggle lasted seconds until a delicate nudge plummetted her face-first into the pillow. Plush feathers cushioned the blow, absorbing shock in a painless thud.

_Stop it. I don't want your pity, your kindness._

Shaky knees propped her hind-end up, a position that —without those pesky boxers— presented her center to Shayne. Something about it riled Courtney up, embers sparking off her fire to ignite a coiled spring tightening her core. Winding it up. The purposeful pillow Shayne arranged. The affectionate reprimands that rewarded her backtalk. The fact that her intimates were all-but on display for him. It overrode guilt and urged her hips higher.

Broad digits speared into her ass, his thumb rolling her core through cotton. Knuckles grazing her slit extracted a sharp gasp.

"Fuck, you're soaked." Fingers hooked in the crotch of her boxers, a rough tug straining the material between her folds. Friction pinched, startling knees to falter and hips to fall.

_Distract, I can still distract you._

"For you. All for you. No one else. Just you. Always just for you." Hiked-up hips accompanied a strangled mewl as legs spread to entice him. Lust neglected the plaid concealing her distraction.

"Don't lie to me." His presence vanished, icy wind generating goosebumps across her flesh. Footsteps plodding on the carpet quickened her heart and squelched her appetite.

_Is he pacing?_

"I felt you when we got home yesterday. Soaked through. Wanting. All because of him. Do you know how hard it was to stop myself from taking your right then and there?"

"I'm sorry." Courtney bowed her head, droplets beading on eyelashes. Yesterday. She still ached to forget her body's betrayal. Her betrayal. Forget the scene she allowed Shayne to suffer. Forget how she crumpled at Alternate Shayne's touch. Forget how her inability to contain herself all-but shredded their already tattered trust.

_I don't care what you say, you can't still trust me. Not after that._

"I'm sorry you had to watch that," Courtney whispered.

His sudden presence behind her prompted Courtney to chirp.

"Wanna know a secret?" Hot breath burned her ear as Shayne pressed his clothed erection against her mound. "I kinda like watching you with him." Quick and brutal force wrenched her boxers off, giving Courtney little time to digest his confession. A finger trailing her seam hindered her mental faculties even further, puffs of warm air coating skin as —what she presumed— his cheek rested on her rump. "God, you're so beautiful."

Praise ripped Courtney back to his response.

"Stop patronizing me, Shayne," Courtney spat, tone wavering. "You don't have to pretend that you like seeing me cheat. It should disgust you like his touch should disgust me."

Cool air replaced scorching fire. The audible thuds of footsteps raced her heart, absence striking a nerve. Gone. Walking away.

_Don't leave me._

"You think I don't know that, Courtney? Why do you think I've kept it hidden for so long? Hidden from you... From me." A heavy sigh ceased his echoing footfalls. The creak of a drawer opening followed.

Sneaking a glance through the corner of her eye, Courtney noted him rifling through some scarves. Shayne's confession bewildered, its unexpected and taboo nature catching her off-guard and disarming her defenses. It chipped at the guilt contaminating her perception, and made his love easier to swallow.

Two scarves in hand, one sky-blue and the other navy, Shayne started towards her. A warm smile brightened his complexion as he caught her gaze. Courtney reciprocated with a weak simper before burying it in the pillow.

_I'll break if I keep looking at you._

"And maybe it's because those are technically my hands on you, but seeing you lose yourself. That pleasure that arcs your form and topples from your lips?" Scarf-covered palms clutched her waist and flipped Courtney on to her back. Frayed cotton tickled her skin as Shayne crawled over her to steal a kiss. Pulling back, Shayne wiggled the navy scarf at her, tassels skimming her midriff.

"It drives me crazy, Courtney. Infatuates me. You infatuate me. Fuck, I nearly fingered you with Damien still in the room just thinking about it." Rough hands heaved her middle off the mattress to snake navy-blue underneath before knotting it above her mound. It created a belt of pleated cotton that nested across her hips.

"And if I don't do something about this." Without warning, Shayne thrust a finger inside of her, thumb bearing down on her sensitive bud. It curled her toes around climaxes' cliff before abrupt-emptiness stopped her from jumping over. "We won't actually get to talk."

"Don't stop. Please, don't stop," Courtney panted, glancing down to encourage his hand's return. Ropes of sateen woven together in an intricate-patterned knot captivated. A momentary diversion from the raw hunger boiling her blood. It evaporated fog enough to distill that Shayne's skills seemed a tad too proficient considering his lack of expertise.

"How do you know how to do this? The knot, I mean." The question escaped thought.

"Used to go boating when I was younger. Can't exactly sail without knowing how to tie a decent knot. Plus, I may have done some research last night. Had a hunch you wouldn't exactly be thrilled about this, now up." Shayne grinned, leveraging the rope bisecting her waist to hoist Courtney onto her knees. Shimmying the knot around to rest atop her bottom, he layered her shirt-adorned collar with affection.

"Feel this end here." Cotton prodded at her fingertips until she managed to pinch it. "A good tug will release it, but I'm trusting you not to pull it. Not while I'm still here and present."

"You're worried about Glimpsing?" Courtney let go of the scarf.

Retrieving the sky-blue scarf strewn beside her, Shayne laced it over the scarf-turned-waistband until the navy belt bisected its lighter counterpart. A simple knot fastened the light-blue scarf's midline perpendicular to her mound before he appended another complex knot a couple inches down. Swift. Easy. Simple. Skillful fingers fascinated Courtney, drowning thoughts as she attempted to follow them.

"Just a precaution." Guiding the light-blue makeshift rope between her legs, Shayne aligned the intricate knot with her clit before slotting pleats of pastel-blue between her butt cheeks. "I don't plan on leaving, not until I know that you're safe." Broad shoulders and defined muscles sheltered Courtney as he fiddled with the scarf behind her back.

A firm pull towed her hands down before severe tugging dug the knotted scarf into her sensitive nerves. Thin cord pinching and tweaking erupted a world of pain that worsened as she trembled, and it jabbed up into her pelvic bone.

"Shayne. Too much. Too much," Courtney shrieked, writhing to free herself. It only made things worse, the material cutting into her. "Please, I can't—"

"Just making sure you can still get around without toppling over." Shayne released, and the pressure dissipated. Tension slackened, friction desisting. "Perfect."

Unlike earlier, her body remained vertical with ease. Rolling wrists ascertained that Shayne had anchored them to the navy waistband, stabilizing her center of balance. At least, it seemed that way, the minuscule movement shifting the light-blue crotch rope and drawing out a moan.

"Now, you can't tempt me into distraction, and we can discuss opening our relationship before you worry yourself sick again."

His words hit Courtney like a brick, slamming against her head until the world went out of focus, and the room whirled into dizzying streaks of color. When he mentioned crossing the bridge earlier, she interpreted it as Shayne sugar-coating his disapproval, that he considered her breach of agreement a relationship-ending offense. For Shayne to suggest opening their relationship, it turned her preconceptions upside-down as she entertained this new option.

"You're not breaking up with me?" Courtney stammered, crimson painting her cheeks.

"Then who would I belong to?" Shayne crashed his lips against hers, his tongue wasting no time to explore. His devotion permeated her being, intoxicating blood cells and invading veins. Mouths followed mouths, callouses sandwiching her face. A push-and-pull of need forgetting purpose as lust erased. Each movement overflowing until wave after wave crested into mouth-muffled moans.

"This?" Clutched cord stilled, terminating friction before it conquered. "I control this. Now, do you want to face me for this, or would you rather I shove that pretty face of yours in a pillow?" Shayne cradled her chin, tracing the contours of her features with the pad of his thumb.

Without thought, Courtney moved to reciprocate, fingertips aching to explore his stubble-accentuated angles. An abrupt jolt that shackled wrists forbade, blocking her endeavor. Silken fabric sliced into her flower, folding her over in agonizing bliss until her forehead flattened against his collar.

"Christ," Shayne husked, tone deep and dribbling with hunger. Careful guiding urged her closer until trembling thighs all-but straddled his bundled knees. His length against her stomach tempted Courtney, but imprisoned hips left desire out of reach. Whimpers cascaded from her lips as the sky-blue scarf dented sensitive flesh. Unrelenting. Dizzying. Constant. "I guess I made it a little too unforgiving."

Loosened scarf complemented an extended moment of stagnation, the bunched-up folds, and knotted threads no longer pressing into her. Green irises descended, blonde strands propped where Shayne's clavicles met. Soiled bandages obtained her attention, residing just inches from being grazed. Fraying edges of gauze, and curled ribbons of tape peeling away.

_If I had just pushed harder, I could've have prevented it. I could've stopped it._

Lifting to Shayne's gaze, Courtney gasped, breath hitching at the hurricane that immersed his muddled blue orbs. A chaos of adoration and concern whipped oceans into rocky waters, billowing peaks that swelled just for her. Muscles inverted. Pulse stuttering as walls closed in. Guilt gurgled up her throat to saturate instinct.

"How can you still look at me like that?" Thoughts jumped her tongue.

"Like what?" Shayne tidied strands of gold behind her ear.

"Like I'm your world. Like I didn't just wreck our trust."

"Because you are my world." Shayne smiled, fingertips caressing her temples. "Because you haven't broken our trust."

"Lies. That's a lie. I had to. I had to." Courtney bowed, unable to believe him. Unable to stand the honesty quieting the roaring rapids disfiguring his jumbled blues. A resurgence of cyclical insecurities that exploited this relapse into guilt. "Broken. I broke it. I had to. I had to. I had to."

"Look at me, Angel." Scarf chafed her nether as Shayne pulled on navy threads girdling her hips.

Quivers stormed her flesh as sparks of satisfaction shot through her midriff, stopping the cycle of doubt in its tracks. Concentration diverted to the tightening coil on the verge of popping. It encouraged emeralds to challenged his command, rebellion provoking a fluttering of wings inside her belly. Added pressure rewarded defiance until pain overtook pleasure, and Courtney relented, looking up.

"You were exhausted, Courtney." The soothing tone carrying his words comforted, and muted guilt permitted it to proceed untainted. "Sleep-deprived even. Yet you still kept your promise. You found me."

"Him, Shayne, I found him." Courtney spat, instincts flaying her shoulders away. His solid grasp on the crotch piece prevented accidental friction.

"But you're also finding me in him, aren't you?" Shayne smirked. "Parts of soul that once belonged to me that now shine through him. That's what you're attracted to, right?"

His conclusion rang half-true, attraction stemming from more than fragments of soul. Sincerity secreted under denial now brought to the surface to constrict her gut. Something unique to Shayne's Alternate that hypnotized. How he located unknown erogenous zones, manipulating her with a single inconspicuous touch. The shameless dominance that rasped his crude-yet-charming demeanor. Intangible items unrelated to Shayne that allured her to Alternate Shayne.

Inability to vocalize her revelation and set Shayne straight lowered her eyelids and stooped her head.

"That's only partially true, isn't it?" Shayne asked when silence spoke louder than words.

Courtney nodded.

"Thank you for being honest." Fingertips toyed with her folds, blistering skin contact quaking her hips. Callouses teased her bud, beckoning Courtney to buck against him. Movement withdrew his hand, slick-slathered spirals smearing the bruises on her waist.

Visible proof of infidelity.

"It's why you shouldn't trust me," Courtney bit out. "You can't trust me. You can't."

"For God's sake Courtney," Shayne growled. Infuriated pads drilled into Alternate Shayne's brands, a stabbing pain that pleasure soon succeeded. It forced Courtney to converge on his eyes, aspiring to ground herself as rapture lightened her mind, and a tingling started taking root. A cloud of bliss urged her hips forward against better judgment.

"You wore yourself thin for me, Courtney." His grip softened into a hovering touch that tickled more than pleased. Faint autonomic giggling planted palms on bruises, dominant but not painful. "So tired, you could hardly stay awake, yet you still prioritized me. My wounds. My perception. Do you think I didn't notice how you micromanaged your behavior? Energy you could have used to preserve yourself?

"So don't tell me I can't trust you because I still trust you with my life, Courtney. Even more so. How can I not after you collapsed ensuring my safety?" Shayne seized the waistband, hauling Courtney closer until quaking thighs straddled him. "It's why I want to open our relationship to lighten your burden, make this easier on you."

Tears of relief spilled. That filter of guilt dissolved, no longer capable of augmenting reality into credible deceptions. Courtney swooped in, layering his neck in open-mouthed endearment brimming with love. Teeth traveled upwards until stubble scraped chapped flesh, and his mouth claimed hers in a brutal kiss.

Shayne guided her against his hardened length, swallowing the moans that evacuated her lips. Between the scarf's friction and his thick heat, pleasure overwhelmed. Tugging on the navy band tweaked her bud, pain eliciting a split-second of bizarre lightness. Light-Headedness that faded the instant he ceased her hips and broke their kiss.

"Shayne..." Courtney panted, jagged gasps bouncing her breasts as she siphoned oxygen to her air-deprived lungs. Body buzzing. The throbbing more apparent than ever now joined by a hollowness aching to be filled. It wound that coil up to the brink of bursting, canting her to him. "Need. Need you."

"Not just yet." Shayne tutted, a laugh catching on his breath. Digits, hooking into her waist, ushered Courtney off until she knelt before him once more. Panting. Sweat slickened her skin. Bowing her head, she cooed as coarse pads kneaded her hips. Their suspension beckoned her eyes higher.

Crimson heat burnished Courtney's complexion upon spotting the significant damp spot darkening tented sweatpants. Soaked through. Fabric clinging to his thickness, a sight that watered her mouth.

_I did that._

"Sorry," Courtney said, shrugging with a grin. It drove the knot against her clit, emeralds fluttering with a whiney gasp. Dropped shoulders relieved the fire to discover amused bewilderment gawking at her. "For that." Lowering eyes signaled to his crotch as embarrassment scarleted her face.

"Don't be." Shayne smirked. "By the end of this, I plan to be coated in you."

Impulse launched her at Shayne, straining against shackles desperate to embrace. Pinching fabric plummetted Courtney against his chest; callouses scraping her biceps caught her before encountering bandaged abs.

"FUCK!" Legs shuddered. Tremors overwhelmed. Black spots bloomed across her vision, monochrome blotches exploding into a cacophony of color as liquid cascaded down thighs. Each tremble rolled the cloth against her clenching heat, pain-tinted ecstasy lacing her release. A slight floating sensation inundated her being.

Fingers prying the knot from her nether failed to register as Courtney rode the aftershocks of heaven. Suns and moons danced, stars shimmering amid their glow. A pervading warmth encapsulated her vibrating figure until tension vanished, and she slumped in a puddle of jello-y limbs.

Too weak to support herself, Shayne guided her ear to his chest.

Nothing but heavy breathing filled the room for what felt like ages, time deserting her. Seconds to minutes to what seemed like hours but couldn't be as Courtney listened to his heart. Resonating hearts beat at a steady rhythm that brought her down to earth until lust-impeded facilities regained clarity, and Shayne's words wove through her blissed-out brain. They seated themselves under the spotlight illuminating center stage, pleading for dissection.

_Do I even want that?_

"Don't fade on me just yet," Shayne said before she could find the answer.

Palms scalding her bruised midriff jolted emeralds open. One hand fastened to the light-blue rope prevented friction while the other trailed her curves to her face. Broad fingers cleaned caked-on tears and brushed back hair.

"Remember when I said this wasn't just about you?"

Courtney nodded.

"Yesterday, when he took over..." A deep exhale cemented sapphire gems to emerald stones, rampant emotions bulging endless seas as Shayne gawked. Enchanted. Enamored. Engaged. Fingertips lingered, tender affection outlining her features. "I can't do this, not while looking at you." He kissed her forehead before flinging his sights to the ceiling as he scoffed. "FUCK! I don't want that thought infiltrating you."

"So flip me."

A whirlwind tossed Courtney to her stomach as Shayne manhandled her. Fervent fingers tangled in blonde, thrusting her face into a pillow as he leveraged her restraints to elevate her hips. Pleats of cotton wedged between folds generated a dizzying that fog aerated flesh. Weightless floating that challenged gravity.

"NOPE. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this." Shayne dropped her, fingers untangling from her hair. Weak, throttled sobs chopped the air, overpowering the even fainter static that tickled her ear. Ignorable. So quiet, she overlooked it as Shayne hissing. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. It felt foreign, all of this has, but not like that. Not like—"

"Shayne," Courtney gasped out, kicking legs clambering to prop her hind end up. His sudden breakdown simmered boiling desire. A flat hand between her shoulderblades prompted purring to reverberate through her throat. "If you want to stop, that's fine, but I'm not going to break if you get a little rough."

"I don't think I can talk about this. Not like this. Not with you like that." A somber laugh carried his words. "You're the one who's supposed to need the safeword, but at this rate, I'll be more likely to shout it. Fuck, I heard them, Courtney. I heard--"

"Hey, focus on me. Focus on this." She wiggled her hips at him. Bad move. Cotton snared her clit, torquing it until an ear-piercing moan shattered the room. Coil quivering until a downpour of liquid sprung free.

Puffs of hot air chilling her swollen nether neglected to prepare her for Shayne placing a sloppy kiss on oversensitive nerves. Swallowing her essence as it squirted out in bursts. Even through fabric, pain-tainted rapture seeped from her hinge.

His solid grip braced buckling knees, one hand still threaded through blue cotton. A reminder not to back against him or risk that pesky knot slicing into her heat.

A reminder forgotten in her lust-hindered state.

"Bear," she whimpered, hips gyrating against the knot in search of his tongue until pain erupted into blinding lights.

He vanished.

"Not yet, you don't," Shayne groaned, two hands splaying her cheeks apart. Harsh. Thumbs grazed the outskirts of her drenched slit, peeling back her petals to tease her entrance. His gawking audible with each stilted inhale. "You have no idea how hard it is not to plow into you right now."

"Then why don't you?" Courtney mewled, hunger clenching her inner walls.

Courtney felt him finger the crotch piece and draw it to the side. Two fingers, scooping across her folds, dodged her clit before masculine grunts polluted the air with a sultry richness. Craning her neck, she cursed at the sight of Shayne jerking off to her, his fist-clutched tip knocking into her bottom with each pump. It satiated her appetite, hypnotized in the rhythm of movement.

Noticing her stare, Shayne snagged the lighter-colored scarf with his unoccupied hand and yanked. Pain sky-rocketed pleasure to an unfathomable degree. Oversensitivity amplified endorphins until she forgot to breathe. Blinding light shattered.

Fireworks exploded across Courtney's vision, blossoming colors too surreal to name. It encased her entity in an airy, weightless feeling until the mattress disapparated from beneath her. Nothing existed, her body, his touch, white light irradicating the world. Flying, it felt like flying, with Shayne as her wings.

Soaring to unimaginable heights. Essence detaching from her temporal form. Thoughts tapering into mindless humming that vibrated across skin. Spurting liquid slathered shuddering thighs as static glistened.

Static.

_Static?_

She heard static.

Thoughts flooded, weighing her down until she crashed in a flurry of panic.

"Toaster," Courtney blurted out, fingers scrambling to release her bindings. "TOASTER!"

A sharp tug freed her before floundering digits slipped cloth over her wrists. The static softened without the friction of restraints that Shayne now hurled across the room.

Flopping onto her back, Courtney pawed around for Shayne's hand, unable to muster the strength to lift her head. Laced fingers quieted her racing heart, but did nothing for the back-bending ache still pulsating between her legs.

"I'm sorry. I didn't I—"

"Static. I heard static."


	45. Courtney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: smut

Static still tickled her ear canals, faint and fading as stimulation receded. Even with seconds of stagnation ticking forward, its call lingered beneath the erratic pounding of her heart and the arousal tampering her perception.

Heavy heaves expanded her ribcage, each rise shielding a worried Shayne from Courtney's vision as he knelt between her outstretched legs. Laced fingers grounded with skin contact enough to discourage nerve-biting despair from breaching, though panic still slithered in.

"I'm supposed to have control, Shayne," Courtney said, tears leaking down her cheeks. Aiming to drop her forearm across her face, she whimpered when her body refused to comply. Muscle trembling and strength depleted. A choked sob ripped her lips. "I'm not drunk, Shayne. I'm not supposed to hear static when I'm not drunk. And I can't even fucking lift my arm."

"Angel, it's okay. You're going to be okay," Shayne said, his calm demeanor cocking her head. Sweatpants pulled over his erection neglected to hide his arousal. Shaft ever visible through the drenched fabric.

The sight throbbed. Insides starving to be filled screamed louder than the static calling out her name. Clenched thighs relieved the desperate ache, but Courtney still failed to restrain a moan. With it, another charge of static inundated, overpowering lust. It jumpstarted her mental faculties enough for reason and fear to chase wanton desire from center stage.

"How is suddenly Glimpsing at random okay, Shayne?" Saliva spluttered off her tongue, salty droplets overtaking her. The persistent static egged Courtney on, their always present promise tormenting her resolve. "I can't be your support, not if I lose control... Not if I become tangled like you."

Entwined digits towed Courtney upright, her upper body crashing into Shayne until biceps encased her shoulders. Palms, fanned across her waist, barred her midriff from encountering his burns. Shayne's careful embrace muted the static's call, vibrations leveling into a room tone of white noise that still frightened but too a lesser degree. A fragile sense of safety slouched her form, dropping her already weakened defenses.

"Maybe you haven't lost control. Maybe we've just found another way to achieve it." A comforting chuckle toppled from his lips as Shayne tided golden strands behind her ear. His confidence reassured Courtney more than it had any right to, acceptance stealing a stifled sob from her throat. In an instant, Courtney found herself hauled into his lap, crushed against him.

White cotton prohibited unfiltered skin contact, but the radiating heat quieted the suppressed static to a tolerable volume. Enough not to vocalize her disappointment. Enough for Courtney to submit to his warmth.

"Shayne, your burns!" Enough to allow her rationale time to think when tired knuckles grazed tattered gauze. Courtney jolted her paws away, letting them flop to her sides as she craned her neck to gauge the inflicted damage.

Fresh red seeped into the once-white fibers now peeling off his abs. Dirtied and in urgent need of changing. Shaking fingers fiddled with their frayed edges, the material curling in on itself.

"I'll live, just stop playing with them and try not to squirm." Pain strangled his raspy voice, mangling his countenance until Shayne stabilized her thighs around his waist. "Fuck, seeing you cry really sets him off."

Instincts hooked her heels behind his back, core shifting against his chiseled trunk. Fire scalded, smothering her appetite with pleasure-laced pain. Static screeched.

"Courtney... That's directly on them," Shayne croaked.

"Sorry, just feel so fucking empty. So cold." Falling hips jammed his cotton-coated hardness against her core at an excruciating angle. Tip stabbing her clit. It prompted a swarm of static that grew stronger with each spike of pain. Whimpers scraped her mucous-clogged throat as pain asphyxiated her intestines.

"It's getting louder. Louder." Courtney mouthed into the film of tears smearing Shayne's neck. "Stop it, don't know how to stop it. I've never. I've always."

"Hush Angel, I've got you." Shayne stroked down her hair, his other arm snaking around her waist until muscle sheltered Courtney. "I won't let the static take you."

Augmented angles lined his clothed member against her entrance. It stirred that ever-present craving to be filled, beckoning her hips to writhe against him.

Bad move.

Each undulation induced static, shifting angles driving his tip against her clit again and again. Accidental or not, it pierced the air in a tear-soaked scream. It shattered her filter, half-baked thoughts flooding her mouth until her stream of consciousness cascaded from her lips.

"I just want you inside me, but I don't want to Glimpse like this. But every time you brush my clit, it hurts, and static screams. And you're not ready for sex, but I want to feel all of you. But this pesky shirt won't let me, I don't know what to do to stop the static. You seem to be certain I'm not losing it, but I'm not drunk. And if I'm not drunk, I shouldn't hear it. But I do. I'm sober, and I do."

Without words, Shayne peeled the sweat-sodden shirt from Courtney's frame. White cotton clung to skin, rasping amplified nerve endings as it rubbed erogenous zones. A firm yank popped the garment over her head, leaving a disheveled mess of blonde that adhered to her lips. Clutched against his broad pecs, Courtney latched on as Shayne lowered to rest supine on the mattress.

Draped across his abdomen, Courtney basked in the overwhelming skin contact. Bodies flush. Breasts squished against muscle as sturdy biceps protected with their embrace. It silenced static, drawing a pleasant mewl as she nestled into Shayne's security. Ear to heart, the steady rhythm pounding on her eardrum failed to hinder the discomfort of his clothed hard-on pressed against her stomach. Wet cloth sticky and displeasing.

"Higher, want to be higher on you." Limp and deadweight, Courtney plopped her arms around his neck as large hands aided her higher across his trunk until she nuzzled the crook of his neck. Despite drowning in his fire, she still noted the anguish each movement elicited. The bandages, the lone barrier separating their torsos, reminded of his agony's source.

Kindness unraveled. The wounds. The pain suffered for her written on his face. Sporadic, subdued cries morphed into body-wracking sobs, quaking Courtney against Shayne in a blubbery mess. Any lingering cravings and desire gone, her flames extinguished.

Their disappearance exposed the subdued hum of static underneath.

"It's back. The static. It's—"

Shayne tightened his embrace, forbidding any movement as he kissed her temple. Abrupt action interrupted, derailing her train of thought.

"You won't have to worry about that." The pain tipping his voice illustrated the reasoning behind his vice-grip. It constricted her gut, compelling trickling streams to surge into white rapids. "I won't let you go, won't let the static take you. Just breathe for me, Angel. Need you to breathe."

Counting eased the fluctuating rhythm ragged sobbing set. Inhales and exhales timed to a number that reverberated inside her head. Seconds piled into minutes until the rise and fall of her breast matched the steady beat hammering his chest. Tears persisted, coating her throat in a voice-distorting film. They just refrained from quivering her form and hindering her ability to breathe.

"That's better, hmm?" Shayne smiled into her hair. "You're not going anywhere on my watch. I'm your anchor today, remember?"

"How can you be so calm? Like I'm not just about to Glimpse out of nowhere." Courtney bawled against his neck.

"Because this isn't out of nowhere," Shayne said with a profound sigh. The despondence infiltrating Shayne's tone irked Courtney, entertaining the idea that he anticipated the static's arrival. That he predicted it. It provoked wisps of anger to singe her stomach lining. Clamped teeth jailed it from the air, allowing it to brew as Courtney listened, tears drying as anger's heat evaporated their existence.

"I didn't think this would bring you there, I swear. All my research. What I heard..." Shayne inhaled, loosening his hands from her locks to coast down her sides and grasp her butt. Digits snuck under their cleft, fingertips massaging into knotted flesh one by one. "This shouldn't have worked. This shouldn't have been enough. And I suppose technically it didn't, not fully at least. You're still here. You're still present and coherent, but—"

"Bring me where Shayne?" Anger crisped Courtney's cadence, the hands, kneading her bottom, failing to cushion his confession. It prompted annoyance to escape despite hitching her breath as she waited for his answer.

"Subspace... That thing my Alternate was talking about?" Shayne clarified. "I stumbled upon the biomechanics behind it last night while researching, and they mimic getting high."

A pointed glare prompted the bulb of Shayne's Adam's apple to bob.

"I swear, everything I read said it took way more pain." Honesty lightened his timbre, softening the rage stewing in her gut. "Like enough to push you into fight or flight, but you weren't... I didn't think... I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you that much. I didn't. I didn't."

Salty droplets plopped on her head. A hand retracted from her buttocks. Through her eyelashes, Courtney spotted Shayne wipe a few stray tears away. It suppressed the raging fury building in her belly. Actions she deemed intentional now determined accidental.

"You didn't, Shayne." Courtney tried to reassure him, but words lacked conviction as they wavered on her breath. Truth disfigured into an unintentional lie, one she rushed to refine. "Bear, I would've stopped you sooner if it hurt that much."

Gentle kisses indented blonde locks as Shayne shook his head. Stilted breaths heated Courtney's scalp, their pattern steadying as his tears subsided. A deep inhale lifted his affection as digits tanged in golden strands.

"I should have warned you. I knew enough to warn you, and I didn't. God, I'm turning into a fucking asshole, aren't I?" Sarcastic laughter pierced the air, tints of gravel sneaking in. Merging edges harder to decipher. The sudden silence that followed ensured Shayne noticed it too. His response startled.

Spirals drilled into the lines of bruises painting her waist, driving emeralds from his neck to his shimmering sapphires. Still watery from his brief slip. Deattaching her hand from his neck, she thumbed the leftover tears clinging to his lashes. Lithe fingers loitered at his temples, pads soothing the thin creases around his eyes.

Broad digits snatched hers, entwining them to place a kiss at their point connection.

"But hey, at least you won't have to destroy your liver to come see me. That's good, right?" Polished edges smoothed his cadence though his pitch peaked into a nervous whine. An apparent attempt to dilute the dense solution of emotion weighing down the room. His squeakiness intimated his doubt and uncertainty that she ascertained stemmed from his suggestion holding intent. "A safer means of control, sorta?"

"Shayne—"

"Fuck, I'm trying my best to be me, Angel, but I may have leaned a bit too much on his instincts earlier. Look, all I'm saying is that now we know the option exists. Honestly, I'm glad it does." Shayne stole a kiss. "I don't want you drinking yourself to death over me, and if we're opening things up, just think about it, okay?"

Laying her ear on his heart, Courtney entertained his proposition, mind clear of guilt for the first time in days. Thoughts whipped around her head, flogging her skull until it stripped away the forming cacophony of 'what ifs' down to an organized line of pros and cons. Not damaging her liver amounted to the most persuasive benefit, but arriving in the Alternate's world in a lust-clouded stupor unnerved.

More so now than ever, after Alternate Shayne all but verified they planned on moving forward and implementing their little arrangement with Alternate Damien. It presented a possibility that guilt had obscured until now. A plausibility that crossed her mind in passing, but remorse and exhaustion stowed away.

Something conjured at the New Year's party last week that solidified yesterday at the Diner and cemented in the alley when Damien blocked her from Shayne. Something Courtney wished she hadn't overlooked.

_Please don't freak out._

"Can we just slow down for a second?" Courtney tucked her head between his pecks, untangling their digits to return her grasp to his neck. Spiraled pads massaged the tension in his collar, hoping to lessen the blow. "Shayne, I don't know if I even want to visit you anymore. Not when Glimpsing onto Alternate Damien's dick is a possibility."

Coarse skin grated the nape of Courtney's neck as Shayne carded his fingers through blonde. Slow and steady, he ushered her eyes to him, enabling nerves to ball up in her chest. Anxieties. Worries. Fear of disappointing him. A laundry list of responses, but the understanding grin that settled on Shayne's features wasn't listed.

"And what if I could solve that?" Shayne swept remnants of tears that caked her cheeks. His grin magnified to a smirk, pride dotting his expression.

_You thought about this?_

Purposeful blinking and widened eyes marked Courtney's disbelief as she stared at her boyfriend as if he spoke in tongues. The nuance of his statement rang clear, but she struggled to fathom how far ahead Shayne had thought this conversation out. How much thought and consideration he funneled into her. All of this for her.

_What did I do to deserve you?_

"Shayne, the way he put it," Courtney said with a weak simper. Green irises drifted to the sparse tufts of curls sprouting between his pecs. Far less than the patchy coating on Alternate Shayne's chest. Though she preferred the smoothness, Courtney missed drawing patterns in it as she had done prior. "It sounded like even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to get her there."

"I got you there, didn't I?" Rough pads scooping under her bottom hiked Courtney against him as Shayne canted his hips into her. It tore a stifled moan from her mouth, painful pleasure ricocheting through her form as oversensitivity augmented friction. The absence of assumed static emptied her lungs in relief. She negated his display of cockiness and dominance as foreign evading his waning filter.

_It's getting harder to keep his traits from showing, isn't it?_

"I'm not her, Shayne," Courtney said with an audible sigh. Palms planted on his breast, she savored the steady rhythm reverberating into her hand. Proof of life that enamored. "I don't want you breaking your moral code for me."

"This isn't just for you, Courtney. I thought I told you that." Brute force flipped them, wrists wrenched above her head. Grip inescapable even if she squirmed. Trust refuted any fear his severe actions should have caused. Trust and the anguish tainting his every breath. His wounds gone all-but-forgotten as focus remained on her.

"Sorry, the memory's still fresh. Still sets me off..." Shayne seethed, words catching in his throat. "FUCK, when he took over, something glitched, Courtney. I heard his world, heard Alt Dames with your Alternate. You're right, it sounded way more intense than I can handle, whipping, leather smacking skin, her screaming... Fuck, she sounds just like you."

"So no, I don't think I can nor want to inflict that kind of torture, but I sure as hell can't listen to that again, either." Nails stabbed her wrists as Shayne ducked to scrape his teeth against her neck. "Fuck hearing you in pain. Fuck hearing him get off to it. FUCK, never again. I won't survive another time, not without losing my mind."

Lips slammed into hers as Shayne captured her in a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongue wasted no time in entering the game, teasing silky flesh with sharp tugs and skin-breaking nibbles. For a moment, Courtney lost herself to it, hips bucking in search of friction as things heated up. Fingers, coasting down her sides, rewarded her efforts, skipping over her oversensitive nerves to skirt around the rim of her hole. It snapped her back to the conversation before desire got the best of them.

"Stop," she ordered, and he obeyed, extracting his hand, and repositioning it to her hip. Gathering her free wrist, he reunited it with its sister before locking eyes with her. Lust-scorched sapphires fluttered her stomach, but the sharpened anguish contorting his face reinforced Courtney's resolve to conclude their discussion. Which meant tackling the question of whether she was okay with opening this.

With sharing him. 

_Just promise you'll come back to me._

"If you really want to try, that's fine, but he's gonna want to test it, Shayne."

Averting her gaze, Courtney tried not to think about the thick length jammed against her thigh. The one thing she ached to have inside but now recognized as an inviable option for the time being. Not until his burns healed at least.

_I want you to enjoy it too._

"We haven't even..." She nudged his crotch with her thigh.

"I'll work around it then, but the same goes for you. Not until we—"

"I want to do that before you go," Courtney interrupted in a faint whisper. "In case! Just in case. And I don't want to Glimpse using him. Not if I don't have to. Not all the time. Drinking... I think I still prefer that."

"Whatever you want, Angel." A stolen kiss split his words before Shayne winced as he propped himself on his knees. It peeled their abdomens apart and emancipated her wrists as calloused digits readjusted to card through the sheets. The urge to glance at the damage this interaction caused pricked her flesh, but Courtney resisted with ease, too captivated in the endless oceans flooding over her.

"Just promise me you'll be honest about what's going on in that adorable head of yours." Shayne stooped to kiss her forehead. "About whatever transpires between the two of you. About everything, even if you don't think it's important. Even if you think I can't handle it, I want to know. I don't want you hiding from me."

"I promise if you promise too." Lithe fingertips scampered across his cheekbones until they danced on his lower lip. Shayne showered each individual pad with affection before bypassing her hand to pepper devotion across her lips. "Promise you'll come back to me."

"I promise once this is over, the world will know you're mine." Shayne beamed at her.

Though she yearned to reciprocate it, the wrinkles pulling at his face beckoned concern to surface. Her inner caretaker stormed to the forefront, forcing her gaze to his abdomen. Courtney gasped.

Soiled bandages no longer concealed his injuries, the rolled-up strips of gauze bunching under his pecs. Untied ends hung from his torso, tattered threads just inches from grazing Courtney's midriff. Viscous, off-colored sludge coated the oozing blisters marring his flesh. It smeared her own stomach, disgust scrunching her nose before she swallowed her revulsion.

_I caused this. If I hadn't been so clingy, you wouldn't have needed... Fuck, I'm such an idiot._

"Courtney?" Shayne cupped her chin and escorted her eyes back to him. "Talk to me, Angel."

"I want to change those." Courtney tugged on a strand of dangling gauze. A genuine smile graced her face, warmth permeating her eyes. "To make up for being so stupid clingy earlier."


	46. Shayne

_NO? What do you mean no?_

Traces of Courtney littered Shayne's apartment as he paced between his living room and bedroom. Shafts of sunlight slotting through blinds illuminated each unlit room. Silence echoed within barren hallways, nothing but faint traffic trickling through the walls. Alone. For the first time in what felt like ages but had only been a day, he was alone.

Articles of clothing adorned the furniture. Shirts and pants smelling of Courtney created a zig-zagging trail leading nowhere; folded piles occupied the couch, while sprawled-out clumps draped the backs of chairs and dangled off counters. Flowers dotted this organized-disorder, well-stocked vases topping any available countertops. Little, ornate cards perched before them, six-rectangular 'I love you's from Courtney and one embossed 'apology' from Damien.

Feminine-branded toiletries cluttered his bathroom, pastel-colored, plastic bottles scattering any and all vacant surfaces; flower-scented body washes and citrus-scented hair products joined less-fragrant, masculine hygiene goods. Doodles covered a small, yellow post-it note stuck to the mirror — 'I love you' written in curly-Q lettering surrounded by lopsided hearts.

On his dresser sat a pile of makeup, assorted foundations and lipsticks littering its top. Three drawers now accommodated Courtney's belongings, underwear and bras thrown-in with miscellaneous garments. Opening the closet door, Shayne smiled at the distinct line forming that separated hers from his. A week's worth of trips to-and-from her apartment left his apartment overcrowded, and he loved it.

Sure, any visitor would think Courtney had moved in, and more so than ever once she returned from today's scavenge. A half-truth. Both agreed to this communal living situation but under the provision of it being temporary. Well, until Shayne and his Alternate switched at least. A product of necessity driven by desire to spend the limited time they had left together and the dangers of Glimpsing alone.

Ironic considering Shayne's appended stipulation that she spent at least two hours away. Worry over them becoming overdependent on one another fueled his addition. One he fought tooth-and-nail for after Courtney interpreted his reasoning the wrong way.

Other than that single hiccup, the last seven days went without trouble, no Glimpses, and no Alternate raging in his head. Not until now, at least. For once, Shayne found himself grateful for it.

With time ticking down, he ached to finalize their plan for the inevitable severance. To figure out if he could take Damien's place and guarantee Courtney's visitation. Too bad his Alternate refused to even entertain the request.

_You still there, Numbnuts?_

Marching back to the kitchen, Shayne stabbed his nails into the pillowed flesh of his palms. Minor discomfort distracted from the dull-but-constant ache radiating from loose bandages sheathing his midriff. Abrupt movement and sustained pressure still aggravated slow-to-heal burns. Beneath sheets of gauze, itchy, still-forming scabs protected fresh and raw layers of epidermis. Irritating, but they ensured the wounds wouldn't reopen unless picked at.

**_You really think I'd let you dom Dollface? Christ all mighty, Fuck-Face, I know you're insane, but this? This is a whole other level of crazy talk._ **

_Unbelievable, I tell you we're opening things up, give you permission to all-but fuck my girlfriend, and now, all of the sudden, you're closing things off?_

The refrigerator door creaked as Shayne opened it, grumbles of his stomach watering his mouth. Disappointment fell from his lips, a disheartened sigh responding to the near-empty interior. White-wire shelves contained a handful of half-eaten takeout containers while sundry condiments stocked the door panel. Nothing fresh. The usual staples. Fruit, vegetables, almond milk, and meat left unreplaced, the motivation to cook eluding Shayne and Courtney.

Anger impelling Shayne into productivity, he grabbed one of the grimier boxes from the back. The repulsive scent wafting off of it scrunched his nose, compelling Shayne to gag. Its exterior solidified his reaction, bile creeping up his throat the longer he scrutinized its appearance.

Green and white peach-fuzz contaminated the styrofoam, mold poking out from the precarious seal of the receptacle. Disgust steered Shayne away from examining its contents, discarding the expired meal in the trash. Several outdated containers followed suit until one or two safe-to-eat meals remained.

Shutting the door, Shayne wrote 'grocery shopping' on a notepad pinned to the side of the refrigerator before returning the magnetic pen to its home.

_A real man sticks to their word._

**_Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber. Sigh, I suppose that's what I get for having faith in that tiny, insignificant brain of yours. I never canceled our arrangement, now did I? In fact, you're more than welcome to have your way with mine, but you'll never dom her. Not in a million years, so drop it._ **

Crumbs of drywall flaked off as Shayne hammered the wall. Though no hole resulted, a spiderweb of cracks marred the paint where rage breached.

_FUCK YOU! I couldn't care less about fucking your girl! I just want that prick out of the picture, and if that means domming her, well... At least give me a chance. Test me! Test me with her like you did with him!_

**_Hey Fuckwad, she's not some doll to experiment with._ **

_You let that Damien of yours do it._

**_He knows what he's doing, Dimwit. You do realize people can get seriously injured from this._ **

_Contrary to your beliefs, I'm not dumb. I did my research. Plus, you'll be there, right? You'll pick up the pieces if I fail. No harm done._

**_Christ, you're daft._** **_I charged you with aftercare and Cor-Cor duties for a reason. I've got parts of you in me too, remember?_**

_So I'm just supposed to suffer that ear rape alone? What about, SHE WON'T VISIT ME, don't you understand?_

Hearing the stirring of static, Shayne scrambled to his bedroom, toes catching on fallen clothing as clumsy feet bee-lined to where he last saw his phone. Miscellaneous items flew through the air as he rifled through the clutter coating his nightstand table. Paper, clothing, empty soda cans, and other assorted items added to the mess on the floor.

Stacks of notifications clogging the lock screen greeted Shayne upon acquiring his cellphone. Alerts from news apps reporting on the latest white house scandal, internet correspondents checking in on social media, and some random, underused apps reminding of their existence. A pile of unanswered texts from Damien stood out as the outlier. Something Shayne never predicted seeing.

Until now, ignoring his best friend had existed outside the realm of possibilities for Shayne. An act he never fathomed occurring, not even in his wildest dreams. But after witnessing Damien in the alley and observing its effect on Courtney, every attempted reply sounded cruel.

**_Oh, I understand perfectly, Fuck-Face. It's not like Dollface visiting me has ever been an option._ **

Another burst of static rushed fat fingers to her name, pulling up their text log. Typos and miss-entered words tainted his warning, a brief and to-the-point blurb informing of his incoming Glimpse and his intent to dominate her Alternate. Silent prayers dripped from his lips, muttered hope pleading for Courtney to return before the static took Shayne. Its increasing volume all-but promised unanswered prayers.

Hitting the send button, Shayne plopped backwards onto the mattress, flattening mountains of crumpled blue sheets in a puff of air. Supine with the hand holding his phone lolled across the bed, sandpaper pads fingered the gauze plastering his abs. Jolts of pain simmered into a dull throb, mindless actions exasperating scabs now threatening to crack open.

The high-pitched ping of Courtney's response hastened the phone to his face.

She was on her way, and he had her approval.

_You're doing this to get even, then? Fine, be that way. The proposal is off, perm—_

**_I CAN'T EVEN DOM HER WITH YOUR PESKY WIMPINESS IN ME! But sure, you want to fucking try? Go for it! Be my guest! Glimpse your weak, incompetent, cowardice ass over here, and tame the brat. But you're staying when I have to fucking get Dames to clean your pathetic failure._ **

Static inundated, white noise spiking through Shayne's frame until it cemented his eyes and erased the room.  
  
  


.G.L.I.M.P.S.E.  
  
  


Static sliced Shayne's soul into asymmetrical, misshapen lumps before it even arrived at Alternate Shayne's essence. The plummet forced slime-like globs of spirit through minuscule holes of soul-woven mesh.

Scraping against the makeshift filter stripped loose threads of soul away, tattered ends fraying off the criss-cross net. They adhered to his spirit's sticky, bright-white exterior until it resembled a bizarre, mutated sea anemone. Eroded strands suspended in a viscous solution.

This state survived for less than a second, devolving as Shayne's soul fused together. Contaminated remnants absorbed the torn-off fragments into a homogenous unit that crash-landed into bone. The uncushioned blow pried Alternate Shayne's already weakened control from the mainframe.

No static. No numbness. Just a searing pain that infiltrated flesh as Shayne took over.

Teeth spearing lip prevented agony from surfacing. Silent deep breaths willed the pain down. Shayne focused on its journey from his skull, through his shoulders, down his trunk, and dissipated through his toes. Gulping extinguished its leftover rage enough to establish soft plush supported bent legs. Sitting, either on a mattress or a couch.

Jaunty music and disjointed dialogue indicated the television being on. Faint giggles and a familiar-but-dissimilar citrus aroma designated Alternate Courtney's presence.

Dislodging the goop binding his eyes, Shayne squinted as blurred vision scanned his surroundings. Despite the fog clouding blue irises, nothing seemed out of sorts. White walls and familiar architecture denoted Courtney's apartment, which lined up with what Courtney had told him about their Alternate's living quarters.

Blinking-back the haze discerned game consoles and articles belonging to Shayne. Things tucked into the shelving-unit that held the stand-up TV. A quick glance across the room located a feminine silhouette across from him. Alternate Courtney.

Lying on her stomach across the L-segment of a couch, she chewed on gum as she concentrated on the television screen. Even obscured, the unfamiliar furniture rushed concerns to his mind, upholstery last seen at Ian's house if memory served correct. Wrong house? Was he expected to dominate her in public? Was it all a bluff?

**_Just bought it, you like? Pretty costly, but she asked, and well..._ **

_How? Isn't your channel crashing? You know you'll go bankrupt if you can't learn to say no to her._

**_Really? You barge in demanding to do a scene_** —

_A scene?_

**_I swear to God, I'm losing it. I have to be for letting your ignorant ass talk me into this. Domming her? These sessions? Pretty much any time you engage in BDSM? I thought you researched this?_ **

_So, about affording the couch..._

**_You do realize you should be more concerned with your lack of experience than our finances, right?_ **

_I'm about to take on your life for the foreseeable future, don't you think it's important I know these things?_

**_We have a side gig of sorts. Look, she'll teach you the ropes once you're here. Right now, it's not relevant. Not unless you'd rather talk logistics, that is._ **

A pulse of white noise startled Shayne as Alternate Courtney changed the TV channel, the sprinkling of fear pulsating at the back of his skull catching him off guard. Pieces of soul bequeathed to his Alternate that he hadn't braved in weeks. Parts that subsisted outside his essence's amalgamation desperate to rejoin their original host.

An invisible barrier prevented their reunification, though fear still exerted its influence over his behavior. Tucking his arms in and securing his hands on his knees, Shayne diverted his attention to the television. Waves of color flickered across the screen, indecipherable chaos even without the haze obscuring his vision. He shrugged, not caring what she chose to watch while his faculties settled into place.

Instead, focus funneled into initiating things, a whirlpool of ideas spinning out of control. Various scenarios projected onto Shayne's eyelids. Marching over and pinning Alternate Courtney to the couch. Tossing her over his shoulder and taking her to the bedroom. Somehow he understood that asking her to cooperate would never work.

"You can quit pretending to be him," Alternate Courtney spoke without looking, a sultry quality lacing her voice.

Splitting the glue that fastened his eyes, Shayne twisted to the lanky blonde lounging opposite him. Aimless, almost ditsy-like Alternate Courtney kicked her butt as she watched TV, her blue pleated mini-skirt flipping up every time toes grazed its fringe. Bare elbows jabbing the couch cushion permitted upturned hands to brace her chin. White straps drooped over her shoulders, the thin tank-top hiked up enough to just conceal her breasts.

"I know it's you."

Shock finalized Shayne's stabilization.

Her confidence rattled. Its unexpected contrast to previous encounters reminded of the lustful determination Shayne had witnessed when he barged in on their engagement night. The lap dance still haunted.

"What gave me away?" Shayne kneaded his upper thighs.

"Besides your absurdly uptight body language?" Green irises poked the corners of her eyes as a grin peaked her profile. "You didn't complain when I changed the channel."

Drawing her knees underneath herself, Alternate Courtney stretched out in what Shayne's limited yoga-knowledge identified as the child's pose. Blue cotton outlined the juncture where the mounds of rump blended into toned thigh. Golden locks fanned the air as she flicked her head back to beam at Shayne. In a flurry of movement, lithe legs swung over the sofa's edge until feet dangled over carpet.

"So, we playing 20 questions like you promised or?" A slight, almost unnoticeable wince creased her features as Alternate Courtney pitched onto her butt.

_Didn't you tell her about this?_

**_Who knows, this is a test, remember? And your proctor fancies trick questions._ **

_Some help you are._

"I promised that to Cor-Cor, and you clearly aren't her." Shayne gulped, sapphires venturing lower.

A mistake.

Spread legs revealed an absence of underwear, intimates captivating his attention.

"Like what you see?" Delicate fingertips scampered across folds of blue to toy with the rim of her skirt. Flaunting her core with a devious wink before breaking into a short-lived giggle fit. Bringing a pointer to pursed lips, Alternate Courtney cocked her head. "You can call me Dollface, by the way."

"Why are you so far away?" Absentminded and hyper-fixated, Shayne licked his lips. Calloused fingertips strummed the brown suede under him. Antsy. Restless. Eager. If he succeeded, Courtney's worries faded. A means to an end. It soured his tongue, but he stomached acidity with ease.

"Aren't you and your girl exclusive?" Touching thighs concealing her nether, she waggled her index at him.

"Things changed." Shayne quirked an eyebrow. "You're not stuttering?"

"Why would I stutter? It's no one but us." Another twinge mangled her face as Alternate Courtney oriented her heels to press into her unclothed center.

"Mind telling me why you're in pain?" Though several answers came to mind — all tracing back to sounds overheard in the alleyway, Shayne wanted her to tell him, or at the very least, show him.

"Now, what would the fun in that be?" She smirked, rocking on her heels.

For a moment, Shayne assumed she reverted into Cor-Cor, what with her familiar swaying reminiscent of the Little's self-soothing behavior. Faint, almost inaudible pleasure filtering from her lips suggested otherwise. The lone giveaway to her ministrations, her expression unwavering.

**_Fucking brat, don't let her get away with that. She's not allowed to touch herself. Not when I'm around. Not without permission._ **

_What do you want me to do about it then?_

**_A coward and a cheater? You know most people strive to reach new heights, yet it seems you reach new lows every day._ **

_Funny. At least tell me your safeword?_

**_Oh, we don't have one; she trusts I'll stop before things ever get that far. Not that she'd even use it then. Girl isn't exactly aware of her own safety half the time. Not that you have to worry, a chicken like you couldn't get there if you tried._ **

_Anything else I should know?_

**_Toybox is in the closet in our bedroom. Use what you like provided you can wrangle her in there._ **

Pushing off his knees, Shayne stretched his arms over his head. Gaze locked to Alternate Courtney. Teeth pierced his lower lip. Clawing his thighs relieved the remaining tension knotting his muscle before he started towards the devilish blonde.

"He wants you to dom me?" She canted her head in feigned curiosity.

Still, it halted Shayne in his tracks, loitering midway between his origin point and her. The edge of the coffee table protruded into his shin, but he disregarded it. Too enchanted. Hypnotized.

Finger to her pout, darkened emeralds flitted over his face before jumping around his rigid frame as Alternate Courtney examined his stance. It provided time for awareness to divert to his own attire. Shirtless and too-snug, black boxer-briefs. Tented. Something tunnel vision overlooked, acknowledgment opening the floodgates.

Arousal flooded Shayne. Thoughts of Courtney absorbed its power, a repetitive mantra cycling through his brain. He loved her, not this doppelganger wearing her skin. The one who mended his wounds this last week. The one who shared his bed despite his God-awful snoring. The one who mattered over everything. He was doing this for that Courtney. For his Courtney.

_I promise I'll make it safe for you to visit._

"And you're considering it? Interesting." Nails drilling knees, Alternate Courtney swayed forward. Hitched breaths filtered through her grin in an unsettling juxtaposition. Compartmentalized pleasure derived from experience with hiding, Shayne suspected. She seemed to get enjoyment out of it.

Her amusement nagged his gut, but the too-loud moan that escaped Alternate Courtney abolished it. It set Shayne ablaze, prompting legs into action. Footfalls quaked the table beside him as he shoved past.

"Not fond of our little arrangement with Dame-Dame, I take it?" Ivory sunk into chapped-red flesh as she smirked.

"My idea, actually." Shayne towered over her, inches separating them. "He thinks I'm too chicken for this."

Acting on foreign instincts, Shayne employed the dominance diffusing through the membrane that divided their jumbled souls. A finger hooked through the metal ring on her collar hoisted Alternate Courtney up until the soles of her feet rested flat against the area rug. Unfiltered dominance pushed further, lifting until she balanced on just her tippy-toes.

Nails digging into his forearms, she siphoned her weight to her hands as a cocky smirk taunted him.

**_You're lucky she didn't strangle herself._ **

"Now, will you tell me why you're in pain, or do I have to force it out of you?"

Legs wrapping his middle delayed the heat backing his promise. Reaction glued spiraled pads to Alternate Courtney's fire-hot bottom. Her audible gasp of discomfort shifted pattern recognition into gear, connecting earlier flashes of pain to her butt. Careful not to drop her, a regretful Shayne adjusted to clutch her waist.

Slow undulations slathered his bare abs in slickness, stiffening his muscles. Anticipation of excruciating pain tensed his stance. A momentary lapse in judgment overlooking this body's lack of burns. Shayne flung the agile blonde onto the sofa.

The shriek Alternate Courtney emitted upon landing on her buttocks tightened his heart. Worry blinding Shayne to her lust-flushed cheeks and fire-scorched emeralds overflowing with arousal.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." Shayne dropped to his knees, extending a hand of comfort. Spiraled pads skimmed her thigh, but she batted him away. Taking the hint, he stood up and brushed imaginary dust from his boxers. The slight tugs created friction against his hardened length, but he neglected it in favor of waiting for a response. Silent.

"For what?" Alternate Courtney rolled her eyes, adjusting to face the television once more. The same posturing as before, sprawled on her belly, chin propped on entwined hand.

For a moment, it seemed she forgot about him, humming an off-rhythm tune as she kicked her butt. Fluttering skirt-pleats exposed glimpses of purple, though denial chalked it up to lighting. Shadows playing games, Shayne told himself. Explanations danced around the truth.

"For nearly choking you? And then chucking you at the couch?" Shayne elaborated when silence lingered.

Slim-but-toned limbs extended as Alternate Courtney flopped around to face Shayne. Upside down, a gold veil curtained suede fabric, knees closing over the top of the couch. Four curled fingers fixed her skirt from slipping while the other hand reached out and snapped the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

Shayne flinched.

"God, I might as well move in with Dame-Dame if you're gonna apologize every time you get fun." Taunting, playful, teasing, Alternate Courtney winked. "At least he has the balls to put me in my place."


	47. Shayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Smut

**_She's a lot, right?_ **

Gravel-laced chuckles infiltrated Shayne's skull as he froze before Alternate Courtney, a blank stare accenting the disbelief stretching his face. 

"What? Not even a comeback?" Alternate Courtney cracked her gum, emeralds wheeling around to accompany her sarcastic tone. "Lame, Dame-Dame already had me gagged by now. Say, maybe it's time for a call."

Widened blue eyes and thinned lips secreted bubbling frustration boiling inside of Shayne. Her taunting corroded, patience sloughing off until translucent sheets of self-control remained, and his desire to continue wavered—the idea of commencing things while angry souring his tastebuds.

Still, that little inner-voice preached, lecturing about Courtney's reliance on his success. About her visitations' dependency on passing Alternate Courtney's test. It countered wavering conviction, willing Shayne to surrender to the flames her Alternate provoked while bolstering commitment to his task. Spite to prove his Alternate wrong aided support beams readying to tame the brat.

_That would be an understatement._

**_You know, it's not too late to back down now, Chicken boy. Bow out before that overactive conscious dives too deep. Don't want you suffocating yourself swimming to the surface, now do we?_ **

_If this is you trying to stop me, I've got some bad news. That jeering of yours? It only fuels my fire._

"Oh, I hit a nerve, didn't I? Should I apologize?" Alternate Courtney pouted, insincerity tipping her mocking timbre. Without missing a beat, lithe digits coiled around his erection, black cotton barricading skin from encountering skin. Lazy, clumsy, rhythmless pumping glided up-and-down his dick, her attention trained on the television screen.

The sudden onslaught of pleasure surging through his core to his stomach paused Shayne, purpose forgotten until absent-minded stroking constricted into pleasureless pain.

"CAREFUL!" Shayne seized her wrist, but her circulation-suffocating grip persevered. A harsh jerk pried Alternate Courtney off in one go, abrupt-severity scraping against sensitive nerve-endings. Excruciating pain ricocheted, absolving any lingering-enjoyment that her sloppy handjob bequeathed.

"Get up!" Bone jabbed Shayne's palm upon contracting his grasp, evoking an audible gasp. It dribbled into stifled giggles before Alternate Courtney became dead weight. Neck arched around the couch cushion, saliva bulging in her throat outlined an anticipatory swallow.

Anticipation Shayne misconstrued for fear, overlooking the mischievous sparkle in her eye.

Second-guessing loosened Shayne's hold, seeds of doubt sowing hesitation. A subtle smirk condemned his display of weakness, her micro-expression the lone warning of her intent. He almost missed it, not that noticing it would have mattered. Blue pleats descending still caught Shayne off guard, the hand securing her skirt bouncing on the couch.

Intimates exposed, Alternate Courtney shifted onto her stomach.

Just as Shayne lowered his gaze to her rear, flustered fingers rushed to cover the muddied purple streaks that his cursory glance allotted.

"Bruises?" Spiked ivories gnawed into pillowed chapped flesh, unconscious and involuntary. Worry joining forces with Shayne's blockaded fear still emanating from his Alternate's membrane-bound soul. It liberated her wrist as he knelt in front of her, noses touching.

"Do they still hurt?" Habit tidied locks of blonde behind her ear, calloused tips loitering at her temples.

"God, you're such a worry-wort." Alternate Courtney rolled her eyes, cracking her gum extra loud to accentuate exasperated boredom. "I mean, he worries, but this? This is a whole other level." —Kissed teeth faltered to a sigh.— "Though I suppose in his current state, you probably have more guts than he does. How sad is that? Please don't tell me that's what you'll be like when you two switch. You know, all mushy and boring and gross?"

"Got a problem with that?" Tempering his agitation eluded Shayne, his attempt at stomaching her insolence resulting in bile climbing up his throat. Urging him to act on irritation. For now, broad fingertips drilled into dainty shoulders before drifting to her ribcage, and her pliant digits interlocked behind his neck.

"Not at all, it's just that I kinda hate being bored, Pansy." Saliva-drenched rubber slopped off his face and onto the ground as she spat her gum at Shayne with a laugh.

The last straw. It obliterated any and all self-restraint, broken patience allowing frustration to breach the surface.

Throwing the golden-haired rascal over his shoulder and standing in one swift motion, Shayne spanked Alternate Courtney before sneaking his palm under blue pleats to grasp her ass. Claws digging into inflamed, fire-hot flesh prevented Alternate Courtney from falling. It drew a painful yelp, tensing her muscles.

"FINALLY!" The blonde shrieked into body-quaking laughter, feet smacking his chest as Shayne started towards the bedroom.

For the most part, he ignored Alternate Courtney's kicking, nails stabbing her rear punishing the more forceful blows—though that only spurred her on. Every now and then, fingertips sliding between cheeks teased her core, quieting the painful whining echoing through the unlit hall. Fingerpads coasting across slick and dripping folds earned Shayne a wanton moan.

It reinforced his resolution and reassured his harshness as Shayne approached the doorway to their bedroom, where he loitered. Just as Courtney had described, an aggregate of her and him—though far more blended than their disordered arrangement back home. Mementos denoting longevity scattered over-organized shelves and desks, anniversary cards, photographs, and more. Things he hoped to one day grace his apartment provided he even returned.

An elbow to his spine barred Shayne from dwelling on that terrifying potentiality, driving feet into action.

Crossing the invisible threshold dividing hall from room, Shayne tallied at the foot of the bed. Nothing too special to indicate their taboo lifestyle. Nothing obvious, at least.

Erratic pants and hitched breaths wafted over his back, scalding heat radiating through skimpy clothing into bare flesh. Shayne neglected it, the mangled rabbit-faces stitched into crumpled sheets capturing his full attention. Mangled, buck-toothed grins sneered at him, glowering in a cynical taunt that ceased his breathing until oxygen deprivation lightened his brain.

Shaking the hallucination off, Shayne diverted to the closet to his left. Doors closed. Too far from the bed to maintain his hold on Alternate Courtney as he rummaged through its contents. No way to restrain her while he searched that toybox Alternate Shayne mentioned earlier either.

_I don't suppose you could tell me when to stop, so I can put her on edge and rifle through that box of yours you were talking about?_

**_Like she wouldn't just get herself off while your back was turned? Use that walnut-sized brain of yours, Dipshit._ **

_It works for you, doesn't it?_

A gravel-tinged sigh responded, foreign annoyance neither confirming nor refuting his assumption. Disregarding his Alternate's ambiguity, Shayne hurled Alternate Courtney—back first—onto the bed. Skin brushed skin as he scaled the mattress, crawling up and over her squirming form until sandpaper pads gathered her wrists and pinned them above her head.

"Now, I need to collect somethings from the closet." Blue eyes tracked his finger's journey as it skimmed down her sternum. White fabric caving under the lightest touch enchanted, hitched mewls heating air each time spiraled pads found an unconventional erogenous zone. He endeavored to map them out, hoping more knowledge would aid in conquering her brattiness.

Sharp tugging and rebellious legs reverted his focus to the task at hand, his exploration cut too short to ascertain anything of benefit. 

"What do I have to do to make you stay?"

"Isn't it your job to know that?" She struggled to hide a smile, muffled giggles escaping teeth-jailed lips.

**_Nightstand, she'll make quick work of those lazy scarf ties you've been practicing._ **

_How do you—_

**_Know? I saw it, Dimwit. Little flashes at least, and that beginner stuff you did with her? Super cute if you want the brat to walk all over you. Why do you think I said no?_ **

_Let's see, between your relentless mocking and arsenal of insults... Uh, I don't know? Because you hate me?_

**_Hey now, just calling as I see it, and seeing as locks don't stand a chance against Dollface, you might as well forget about those fancy, quick-release knots of yours. Just check the nightstand before she wiggles free._**

As if cued, the flexible blonde thrashed underneath him, flailing limbs jerking his grip and thumping against his waist. A momentary pause offered false relief. Shortlived, yet it dismantled his defenses enough for heels to hook behind his back as Alternate Courtney somehow bypassed what Shayne thought was a vice grip anchoring her thighs.

Core undulating against his bulge, she stole a kiss. Shallow. Empty. A diversion that concluded in a closed-mouth snicker. It devolved into muted whimpers that escaped with each buck.

Refusing to succumb to the waves of pleasure coursing through his form, Shayne went limp until his lower half's heft forbade any movement. Though locked heels still latched Alternate Courtney to him. Free-hand straining for the nightstand, spiraled pads fumbled with grasping the spherical knob until nails speared polished wood.

Sapphires fastened to Alternate Courtney's challenging glare, Shayne palmed the shallow drawer until he procured a handful of cloth and a clump of metal. Chains jangled as he dropped the heap onto the bunny-patterned sheets, sights peeling from the naughty blonde to inspect his findings—a metal-chained leash nestled amongst thick strips of black nylon.

Sitting up, Shayne retained her clasped wrists. Awkward and uncomfortable, claws reaching around his back pried a less-than-pleased Alternate Courtney off. Quick-and-clever movement enabled Shayne to straddle her hips before she recovered her purchase on his midriff.

Satisfied with her confinement, he released her to examine what he extracted from the drawer.

Separating the pile of acquired items, Shayne set aside the leash in favor of picking up the bands of black nylon. Two stitched-together hoops—one larger than the other—with metal buckles dangled from his pointer, leaving its identical twin on the bed. Beyond identifying it as some sort of restraint, the odd contraption bewildered Shayne, how it operated deserting him with a helpless stare.

"God, you're clueless." The device disappeared in a blurred streak of black as Alternate Courtney snatched it and wiggled free from under Shayne. Situated on her knees, she buckled the larger loop around her upper thigh. Repeating this with its indistinguishable counterpart, she secured her left wrist to her left leg with the smaller hoop.

"Uhm..." 

"What? I'm bored, and if this is what it takes to get this little party going, so be it. Just help me with the other wrist before I decide you're not worth my time."

"Thanks, I think?" Stunned and transfixed with her sudden willingness to cooperate, Shayne just stared at this mysterious vixen waltzing around in Courtney's skin. In Alternate Courtney's skin.

_She's a lot more... Confident than I envisioned. Isn't she supposed to be a sub? I mean, don't you own her, for Christ's sake?_

**_You wanted to tame the brat, didn't you? Don't tell me you're backing out now after letting her get away with so much shit._ **

_What was... What am I supposed to do? Force her to obey? I'm not a monster. I ca—_

**_That's what she wants, you idiot. Christ, this girl will make a doormat out of you soon enough if you don't hurry up and punish her._ **

"Hello? Earth to Coward, are you in there?" She flicked his forehead.

Harsh, abrupt, his hand jolted out and seized her wrist with enough strength to evoke a pain-inundated yelp. Yanking it to her hip, Shayne tightened the cuff until nylon carved skin, ensuring any intense squirming created friction burns from chaffing. 

Pinching her chin, Shayne forced scorched emeralds to him.

"Don't you fucking call me that again." With her face flung to the side, hand-imprisoned biceps slammed Alternate Courtney against the headboard before his entire body anchored her in place.

Flushed features prompted Shayne to gawk, heavy panting bouncing her breasts and parting plump lips. His mind screamed to look away before he drowned in the false image of the one he loved and sentiments belonging to his transferred onto this imposter. 

Everything flew out the window upon Alternate Courtney licking the tip of his nose and saying, "Call you what? A coward?"

Shoving his tongue into her mouth, Shayne silenced her. Crude. Biting. Virulent. Teeth clattered, and flesh tore. Vigor countered his brutality until he perceived the stiffness strangling Alternate Courtney's form slacken. Her reciprocation surrendering signaled the inklings of submission.

He hoped.

Sandpaper pads descended cotton-clothed breasts and bare abs to plunge into her skirt. A whispered mewl sweetened the air as fingertips danced around her clit, touch skirting the bundle of nerves.

"You want this?" Shayne chuckled as writhing hips hunted for friction. Desperate for relief. Desperate enough that Alternate Courtney nodded 'yes'. Rapid. Eager. Needy. "Then, be a good little girl and stay." After a quick roll of her clit, he diverted to her entrance, tantalizing circles teasing but never dipping in.

"And remember, Dollface, I control this." The words tasted foreign despite originating from him as Shayne withdrew, wiping his fingers on her shirt before tossing her aside. Crass but necessary. Fed up, he was done with her bratty antics. Done with this prolonged game that weighed his stomach with lead-filled pellets of guilt. The sooner he tamed her and proved himself, the better.

Clambering off the bed, Shayne marched over and wrenched the closet door open. Inside, the ends of hanging clothes dusted a bright-red box quarantined to the corner. A combination padlock threaded through the clasp bolted the box shut. Two columns of five tiny buttons protruded from its silver-coated face, ten digits for a ten-digit combination.

_Okay, you can't expect me to know the combo, now can you?_

**_3477624283_ **

Shayne scurried to enter the correct sequence of numbers before the lengthy, seemingly random code abandoned his brain. 

The lock clicked open.

Removing the padlock and placing it on the ground, Shayne lifted the box's top to investigate its contents. Four, figure-eighted bunches of black rope stood upright in one boxed-off half, with a few short riding crops tucked against the long side. In the other blocked-off portion, a colorful collection of butt plugs and various-sized dildos surrounded a bottle of lube and a tube of scented lotion. Some more unique items piqued his curiosity, but their name —let alone use—evaded him.

Plucking a bundle of rope, a fat-tipped riding crop, and the bottle of lotion, Shayne ignored the toys for now, unsure if that counted as penetration. The one hard-limit rule between him and Courtney, and breaking it was the last thing he wanted to do.

His heart leapt to his throat, cock twitching upon spinning to face Alternate Courtney. Unbound. Cuffs discarded to the floor. Skirt hiked to her cloth-clad breasts. Busy fingers toyed between spread legs. A twisted smirk contorted her features as emeralds locked onto him. 

"Oh. My. God. You really thought those could restrain me? How precious!" Flopping onto her back in another giggle fit, Alternate Courtney rocked side-to-side in laughter. Though pain chopped her breath whenever her butt rubbed against the mattress.

Lotion and crop crashing to the floor, Shayne wasted no time to punish her misconduct this time. Broad fingers clasping her ankle wrenched Alternate Courtney flat against the mattress until supine across the vertical. Instantaneous action circumventing any attempt of escape, Shayne pounced.

Black cord coiled her wrangled wrists until four tight loops knotted each one. Unlike with Courtney, he chose a knot without a quick release to secure them together. Though intuition suspected, given enough time, she would still find a way to free herself.

Bound wrists dangling just above her pubic mound, Shayne released Alternate Courtney and shimmied back with a grin. It widened as he watched the brat fall flat on her face in a loud humph.

Blonde locks fanning across the sheets tickled his skin, and for a moment, Shayne played with the golden threads, running them through his fingers before another escape attempt returned him to his mission. 

Rough manhandling spun Alternate Courtney so that her skirt-veiled bottom now faced him. Shins locking her ankles in place, Shayne pressed against her core. Slickness diffusing through the thin cotton briefs dampened his throbbing tip. Chest to her back, chapped flesh grazed the shell of her ear as he adjusted his clothed-member to slide against her ass.

"I control you." He bucked against her sore bottom until moans screamed. "You play by my rules, not his."

Whipping away—shins still anchoring her feet, Shayne grabbed her hips and angled them to his liking. Stress heaved his chest with every winded breath. His effort all led up to this. To what lay beneath that pleated skirt. Hesitant fingertips fiddled with its hem, but before he could flip it up, her back arching and head lifting paused him.

"Stop. You're not. You're not allowed to see that." Softness-sweetened honesty poured from her lips—not quite Cor-Cor, but not the snotty, back-talking brat from earlier either.

"I think you've forgotten, I'm the one giving orders here." One hand diving under tweaked her nipple, torquing the bud hard enough to provoke an unfiltered shout. "So, shut your mouth before I shut it for you, Dolly." Bitterness tainted his tongue, but Shayne neglected the aftertaste that lingered. Foreign yet not, all at the same time.

"He said. He said I'm not supposed to do anything that will make you break." Alternate Courtney blurted, panicked. Words colliding together embellished the frailty of her cadence. "Hard-limit. That's our hard-limit rule. Please, if you do this."

_Uh, I thought you said no safe words? Do I stop? Or?_

**_That's for you to decide; she's doing this for your benefit, not mine. You can thank your girlfriend for that, by the way. Her idea to keep that broken brain of yours safe._ **

"This is my choice, Dollface." Shayne retracted, soothing the groove between her shoulder blades. "You won't get in trouble for this, I promise."

Bunching her skirt up to her waistline, Shayne stopped breathing. Oxygen catching on saliva as he almost tumbled off the bed. The sight evaporated the built-up dominance and courage surging through his system until only residual powder remained.

Still, he kept from breaking, powering through the crippling desire to breakdown with the reminder of what was at stake should he fail. It neglected to neutralize the paralysis stiffening his form, a hostage to the destruction on display for him.

Parallel lines of angry-purple welts cross-hatched her bottom, sensitive snow-white skin red-and-inflamed. A deep breath thawed his frozen stature.

Bending back to steal the crop off the floor, Shayne aligned its narrow shaft with the markings, careful not to connect with skin. Not a match. The stem too slim to have produced them. His stomach clenched upon realizing Damien supplied the tool that created these brands. Sidelining the thought along with the crop, he gave into concern-driven curiosity.

Feather-heavy pressure curved his palm over scalding skin, extorting a pained cry from Alternate Courtney. Nasty bruises that burned his sandpaper-textured fingertips. Fire-hot. Inflamed. Muscle-deep. 

"He did this to you?" Shayne's voice faded into a worried whisper as he thumbed one of the darker lines. Intestines constricted upon witnessing the muscle and skin flinch from his delicate touch. Too fresh to be from last week, burst capillaries visible with each pulse that vibrated up his forearm.

"Aren't they beautiful?" Alternate Courtney bit out, hissing with pain as he further explored the pulsating welts. Fingertips traced lines until her spine arched in a cat-like manner, fingers curling into the sheets as she backed into his hand. A glutton for pain, shifted hips presented her drooling slit to him.

Despite acknowledging her obvious enjoyment, Shayne's conviction crumbled as he rearranged blue pleats over purple hash marks.

Affection deserting as hands fell away, he depleted any leftover resolve in order to stop himself from evacuating the bed completely. Just kneeling there—knowing what resided underneath—shaved off layers of composure until a paper-thin mask comprised the lone obstacle blocking his inability to perform from manifesting on his face.

"I warned you." A profound sigh slumped her frame—body language morphing—attitude and brattiness evacuating her system. "Not even mine fancies this stuff. The furthest he'll go is that silly crop, and even then, he'd rather use his hand than cane me."

_You let him do this to her?_

**_Believe it or not, I don't get a kick out of inflicting pain, not the way Dames does, but she likes it. Dollface likes it, and that's what matters._ **

_Then how do you?_

**_Get her to subspace? There's a psychological component I play on. Our bond? Our trust? Something neither you nor Dames have. But unlike your cowardice ass, he has ways around it._ **

"Bear, is everything okay?" Alternate Courtney asked when silence encroached on the territory of awkwardness.

Resemblances screamed louder than before, the use of Courtney's given pet name eroding Shayne's ability to separate Courtney from her Alternate. Once dissociated whimpers, now sounded too similar to bear. Shoulders sagged. A choked sob clogged his chest.

The last vestiges of his constitution shredded until the influence of membrane-jailed fear amplified worry into insecurity that secured its roots to his soul.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't take Damien's place. He couldn't alleviate Courtney's worry, and now Courtney would never visit him. Alone. Alone and trapped with this bratty nymph whose inconsistencies unnerved.

A single salty droplet splashed onto the small of Alternate Courtney's back, then another, and another until a steady rain trickled down.

"I'm sorry," Tear-infused saliva spluttered off his tongue. Head bowed, his entire upper-body slouched until his forehead rested between her shoulder blades. "You were right, I don't have the ball for this. Just a fucking coward like you said. Pathetic to the bone."

Static erupted in his ears as he sobbed into her back.


	48. Courtney

The soft undertones of music filtered through Shayne's sunlit bedroom as Courtney anticipated her boyfriend's return. A heaviness in her gut expected failure, suspecting the man who stole her heart to return some sort of broken mess. Just how broken remained the quantifier.

Of the two unknowns —his post-Glimpse mental state and who he woke up as—that nagged her, the first aspect terrified her. No way to predict the outcome of his downfall. It hollowed her chest, spherical weights bombarding her diaphragm carving an apprehension-filled cavity of endless depth. At least, Alternate Shayne was a known quantity. The only surefire thing about Shayne's mental state pertained to her certainty of his incompetence.

Shared history from years of friendship bolstered limited experience from their few months as lovers. Combined knowledge understanding Shayne's limitations, foreboding that last week's rough-play upheld. If Shayne collapsed just from pulling a fraction too hard on her crotch piece, how could he stomach what Alternate Courtney required to survive?

Though the exact parameters eluded Courtney, bits-and-pieces of information that his Alternate had provided manifested in a hole-riddled photograph. Hospitals. Dangerous. Emergency. The way Bunny had clung to signs of life. It depicted something with the potential of death, something that existed far outside Shayne's comfort zone. It had to.

Shayne hated inflicting pain.

Prayers to be wrong had cycled her mind on the drive home, repetitive mantras overlooking the fact that she now considered Shayne's apartment home. Instead, she troubled herself with preparations.Predictions inspiring Courtney to drape herself in one of his shirts, white cotton pooled at her thighs as she cuddled against his side.

That had been ages ago.

Now, her body occupied more muscle than bed, bunches of red folds kicked away in her subconscious drifting. A slow encroach she noticed when her leg slotted between his. One she appreciated and gave into.

Head nested in the crook of his neck and loose arms slung around his collar, Courtney latched to his warmth without care. Legs tangling together until skin and sweatpants met. No pants. No panties. A choice made on the off chance words neglected to dismantle his meltdown, and she needed a quick distraction. Something to avert course before things snowballed into unfixable territories.

All check-boxes on her preparation list marked complete, Courtney judged herself as ready for Shayne to animate.

Or so she thought.

_Who knows what aspect of Bunny he'll bring back this time._

Though the possibility of his Alternate waking nagged her skull, intuition delegated Shayne —her Shayne— as the victor. The warm ball of comfort that nestled in her stomach insured it. False security that she swallowed as truth while knowing it was a lie.

Not even the prospect of guessing wrong scared Courtney. Her trust in his egotistical counterpart germinated seeds of courage sowed deep within her soul. Little bulbs that Shayne's permission nurtured until they sprouted into bloom.

No worries of her comfort being framed as cheating. No weight to burden her shoulders.

Shayne stirring hoisted her upper-body enough to provide him room to breathe. Sloppy limbs rearranging until bent elbows propped Courtney up, fingers tallying at the coarse stubble prickling his jaw. Emerald irises panned his complexion, inspecting sleek plains for signs of rising. Her soft simper drooped into a frown.

Thin-creased lines tugging at his eyelids clenched her stomach, his mouth contorting in a mangled wince. The sight twisted her intestines in a knotted mess. Sporadic hitches in his breathing, chopped exhales into fragmented gasps.

Pain mutilating his once serene countenance disemboweled Courtney's mental fortitude as it permeated his vibration-quaked form. His muscles tensing and releasing in rapid succession tightened her hold. Bodies molding together until starts became ends.

"Shh, I've got you, I'm here," she whispered, pleading words pierced static and eased his landing. "I don't care if you failed. I still love you."

Knuckles caressed the quivering serpentines creasing his forehead, soft-touch striving to iron pain and mitigate discomfort. Still, evidence of anguish outlasted, though the magnitude of tremors shattering his form lessened. Scant skin contact unable to relieve Shayne's torture completely.

Clinging to his chest, Courtney hid in his collar. Scrunched eyes prevented tears teetering on eyelashes from falling. Little droplets ballooned into bulbous spheres that bulged invisible barricades as she fought to hold them back. If Shayne woke to her crying...

_Don't be selfish. Don't make this about you._

A water-clogged gasp intimated his revival, prompting her collar-buried face to surface. Palms sandwiching his cheeks scooted Courtney upwards until green eyes leveled with eyelid-shielded blues.

Swallowed conviction overpowered her own distress as Courtney forced herself to look at Shayne while she waited. Waited for blue irises to emerge. For the velvet notes of his voice to soothe her ears. For an explanation behind the bulge forming against her leg.

Inappropriate and unwelcomed jealousy infiltrated her system. Possessiveness she had zero right to feel. Their open relationship aside, her history with Alternate Shayne spoke for itself, deeming her jealousy the sign of hypocrite and labeling herself as such. Still, the idea that Alternate Courtney got him off so much that the effects transferred to their world irked her even if it wasn't the first time.

Shaking it off, Courtney saturated her lungs as she braved his torment. Green eyes watered, anguish strangling his features until she could no longer just stay there doing nothing. Until it became too much to bear and the sight —his agony— eviscerated her constitution.

Swollen tears threatened to flood, the ache to bolt contaminating her system. Impulses Courtney refused to act on that were getting harder and harder to scorn. Compulsions built on the horror of witnessing her boyfriend in pain. A fear that extended to all of her friends but screamed loudest for the man she adored without boundaries.

_You can't just run away, Courtney. You have to be there for him like he's been there for you._

Unable to quiet deep-rooted urges and frantic to alleviate his suffering, desperation provoked the memory of his migraine to the forefront of her mind. How the implementation of pleasure overrode the infliction of pain. An idea her diminishing rationale vetoed, but her despair-crippled fortitude overturned.

Rearranging herself to straddle Shayne, Courtney placed a tentative kiss to his jaw. A prolonged exhale joining signs of repose spurred her on. Careful not to exert too much strength, hips rolled in time to affection peppering his jaw. It vanquished his discomfort, wrinkles fading. His breath stabled out.

Painless. Serene. Tranquil.

Pleasure swelled as stress over his pain diminished, though Courtney disregarded the soft hum compelling her to pull his sweat pants down and mount.

Urges she no longer trusted to be hers despite no hint of foreign, nor Alternate Courtney to confirm her conclusion. For now, Courtney blamed it on infatuation, on how head-over-heels, crazy in love she was for Shayne, and—coveted behind an opaque cloak of denial—on knowing how it felt.

"Co-Courtney." Ragged, water-clogged pants cut his speech, pain-choked words and tremor-inundated breaths obstructing his tone—the lone indicator of whose soul resided inside. It drew her attention to open-but-squinted blue eyes. Darker than before, but speckles of light blue still sprinkled navy rims, the darkened shade now invading his pupils. His identity obscured in a confusing jumble.

The exertion of distinguishing his identity paused Courtney, delicate fingertips smoothing the crow's feet branching from his eyes. Their furrows deepened, stilled hips—the absence of pleasure combating pain—inducing a gut-wrenching wince to his complexion.

Audible anguish breached the air, his stuttered pants poisoning her veins. Desperation surged with vigor that his awakening then amplified. It ushered emotions to crest and overflow until billowing tears endangered her resolution to stay unyielding and present.

Her determination not to break started to crumble.

Urgent to maintain composure through eradicating his misery, Courtney recommenced her ministrations. Screams of protest from her rationale ignored, the selfishness of her actions overlooked.

_It's better than running away, better than crying._

"It's okay, I found you," she mumbled into his jaw, fingertips mapping the stubble-coated hills and valleys of his face. "You're back. You're safe. I'll protect you. Always. Even if you—"

"Courtney." He choked on her name, tremors quaking his body as he attempted to lift his arm. "Stop, I need you to stop."

His request fell on deaf ears, Courtney far too involved in monitoring his tone for subtle differences in timbre to heed his actual words. Energy wasted on, what rationale should have labeled, a useless task had desperation not suppressed coherent thought. After all, his title mattered little in the short-term, what with their open relationship allowing this and subduing his pain being her current priority.

"Let me take care of you, take the pain away," Courtney hushed, one hand squirming between them to aid her undulating hips.

For a moment, he surrendered, hands coasting down folds of white cotton to clutch her bare bottom. Quivering grips kneaded her muscle to set a languid rhythm that coaxed him into relaxation. Tightness running rampant through his form released into limp limbs and a loose grasp.

Short-lived. Tranquility morphed into tension-strangled muscles and stress-grated teeth as Shayne stilled her hips. Mistaking stiffness for pain, Courtney increased her efforts, lapping at his collar as fingers fumbled with the waistband of his sweat pants. Skin contact worked for her, so why not for him?

"I SAID STOP, COURTNEY!" Nails drilling her ass forewarned his hand smacking her bottom. A punishing spank that rippled across her muscles. It left a sharp stinging sensation across her flesh and halted her actions in an instant. 

His words registering infused Courtney with guilt until withheld tears jumped off the cliff, toppling off her lashes into unpredictable streams.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, wiping at the salty rivers trickling down her face. "I didn't mean... I didn't think... I just wanted to make this easier for you, so you didn't have to feel this pain."

"Just let me have what I deserve, you fucking brat." Shayne grabbed Courtney's waist until fingerpads carved into flesh. They cleaved into her midriff, pulsating pain coaxing pressure to increase. Each burst of distress that distorted his face accompanied fingertips stabbing her waistline.

Teeth-sealed lips stifled a yelp as Courtney endeavored to mask her discomfort.

"I deserve to feel this, deserve fucking worse." Shayne bit out, dejection coating his tongue.

His verbalized low self-esteem and sense of self-worth hit hard. Any developing guilt thrown out the window. The sheer damage this Glimpse caused terminating her breath for a moment. Tears evaporated, anger at the lies spilling from his tongue overtaking any emotion who dared to counter it.

"Don't you fucking lie to me," she reprimanded, pointed brow marrying her hardened glare. "Because nothing you could've done over there deserves this torture. The only thing you deserve is me."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew." He forced Courtney off, throwing her onto her butt. Rough. Harsh. Uncaring even. Just a few inches farther would have landed her on the floor.

Free of her weight, Shayne flopped onto his stomach. Movement stiff and shaky. His soul still stabilizing. Palms braced his unstable and tremor-ridden form, the effort of just planting them on the sheets painful to watch. Every action inverted his figure, excruciating pain shattering any lingering relief from earlier as Shayne crawled towards the mattress's edge.

Shocked, confused, and a tad frightened, Courtney scrambled to her knees as she witnessed Shayne struggle to situate himself. Her Shayne, it had to be. No way Alternate Shayne flung her off like that. From what she had observed at the diner, Bunny had some control over his anger. Not to mention, his gravel-absent resonance all but confirmed it.

_Whatever happened, we'll work through it. We'll learn to control this. Together._

Hobbling towards Shayne, Courtney loitered an arm's length away from where he sat with his back turned to her. Broad shoulders heaving into uncontrollable shudders with each jagged breath radiated anger.

"Bear," she whispered. Fingertips reached to comfort Shayne, millimeters barring contact before pressed lips preceded her hand's retraction.

Silence burdened the air between them, weighing the void. Nothing but her staring and his seething. Anger poured from his unsteady posturing. Rigid lines and puffed out chest contrasted trembling muscle. His clenched jaw spoke the loudest, taut skin rolling over teeth as lips puckered in a nasty frown.

"Bear, listen to me," Courtney said before anger escalated into rage. "We'll figure it out together. Whatever happened, it'll be okay. It's okay."

"NO, IT'S NOT COURTNEY!" Shayne shot upright. Abruptness almost toppled him over, unsteadiness swaying his torso. Feet shuffling forward oriented his center of balance.

His anger-crisped body language seized Courtney's stomach, constricting her intestines before inflated shoulders slumped with a long exhalation.

"I couldn't do it. Just like he said. Just like you said... I saw her ass and, FUCK!" Fingernails scraped short blonde locks. Hard angles and heavy-handed posturing reemerged. Pivoting to Courtney, Shayne refused to meet her gaze. Narrowed sights directed to the side of her head, he swallowed before he ordered, "Turn over, present yourself to me."

"Shayne, I—"

"Do it before I fucking do it for you. I do not have the patience for this." Balled-up fists raked his thighs. Agitation frantic for an outlet. "Whatever I took from him. Whatever's flowing through my veins right now."

Shayne flung an arm out to his side, his fist barely missing the wall before flexed muscles loosened for a moment. Palm flattening against the paint, he softened as he caught his breath.

"I can't control it, can't regulate it."

_But you're still in there._

Sheepish, rapid nodding hurried Courtney into position, swiveling so that her backside faced Shayne before angling towards the ceiling. Hatred laced every movement, every moment of compliance. Who was he to order her around like this? Concern over his sudden shift in demeanor tolerated it for now, though somehow, she wished he had just manipulated her into place. Grabbed her hips and adjusted her stance to his liking.

Though heat never connected, his presence hovered behind her. Puffs of warm air washed over where glutes met the small of her back. She considered asking Shayne why but opted against it after something wet—a teardrop— splashed her skin.

"No bruises." Faint, almost inaudible, his whispered relief faded into a raspy inhale before his warmth disappeared. Though it impelled Courtney to swivel around, she remained glued to the spot, unsure of what he wanted from her.

The sound of footfalls ceasing craned her neck until emeralds arrived at the doorway where Shayne now stood. Rigid shoulders, the defining element of his naked back.

"Go put some panties on, and take my shirt off while you're at it," Shayne said before glancing over his shoulder at Courtney. Regretful. Resigned. Rueful. Complexity engraved his expression before it leveled out into a blank stare tinted with accents of anger. "You have your own clothes here, don't you?"

Shayne exited the room.


	49. Courtney

"I thought I told you to change your shirt," Shayne said as Courtney approached the open-style kitchen. Stationed behind the couch, Shayne's anger-infused eyes drilled into her. Hours-old bandages dangled from his stomach, tattered strips clearly shredded in his fury.

Mere minutes had transpired since he stormed out, chaos audible from the bedroom as Courtney scrambled to obtain underwear. Chosen in a hurry to chase Shayne after finding his boxer drawer empty, too-tight panties —a pair intended for the trash months ago but had somehow hitched a ride to Shayne's residence— now chafed her groin. Unpleasant but tolerable.

"I may be your girlfriend, Shayne, but I still have free will," Courtney scoffed. Intuition suspected more than foreign rage influenced his uncharacteristic behavior, though caution and hesitancy still delayed her entrance. Confusion over his impromptu outrage necessitating time to process. Questions of her safety around Shayne never traversing her mind.

Trust superseded doubt.

Despite the spanking Courtney received, no fear of Shayne redirecting anger onto her existed. That lone instance blamed on two worlds overlapping. Instead, worries circled the state of his apartment, of their relationship. Anxieties over mess and abandonment.

_What the hell am I supposed to do with this?_

Green irises canvased his uncontrolled anger's destruction, defeat and annoyance curdling her tongue. The consequences of heavy stomping and curse-filled shouting overheard moments ago, her belongings suffering the brunt of Shayne's unfounded ferocity.

Clothes scattered everywhere, her disorganized-but-folded piles now strewn across the floor. Though the vases all appeared intact, their contents lay barren, green, droopy stems no longer standing proud in their colorful flower-covered hats. Their torn-off, crumpled-up petals littered wooden floorboards and clung to cushions.

_Kinda thought a room covered in rose petals would be more romantic._

"Well, there are plenty of shirts for you here." Shayne chucked a handful at her. Lack of mass hindered their trajectory, the lightweight garments landing midway between living room and kitchen. Dirty and unraveled, a rainbow of plaid splayed across the kitchen isle's wooden trim.

Spinning on his toe, Shayne advanced towards the door before turning. Over and over, hands flailing with excess energy matched heavy-footed pacing.

"What the fuck's gotten into you, Shayne?" Annoyance tipped her tongue as Courtney stooped to collect an armful of shirts. The nerve of him, ordering her around? Controlling what she wore? Spite disobeyed his implied command.

Situating between Shayne and the couch, Courtney draped rumpled flannels over the top cushion. Practiced hands folded with ease, monotonous action relieving pent-up stress. It hampered annoyance enough to provide untainted reassurance.

"I get that you failed. Hell, I expected you to, but—"

"Some fucking girlfriend you are," Shayne spat. Madness clawed at frayed bandages as if trying to peel away the residue of her comfort. "Though I suppose that's what a pathetic pansy like me deserves after this."

"I made a mistake back there, I'm sorry that I'm human." Courtney tidied colorful button-downs in a stack on the kitchen isle. Gripping the granite countertop's edge, she bent over. A deep breath calmed tension building inside. "I'm giving it my best, Bear."

"Expecting me to fail is your best, Courtney?" Heat painted her spine, Shayne wrapping around her back. Hot breath wafted across the nape of her neck before teeth scraped skin. Calloused fingertips sanded her inner thigh before toying with the hem of her panties. "Good girl, you changed your underwear, at least."

Courtney shivered, hitched breath evening out as Shayne retracted. Despite his contempt-poisoned tongue, hunger for touch permeated every cell. His warmth balanced the abrasiveness, grating her ear canals. It circumvented seeds of guilt from pullulating that his abandonment now beckoned to sprout.

"Just because I expected it doesn't mean—"

"You're just like him!" Broken glass clattered—unseen— a vase crashing on the floor, or so she hoped. Other options—the window or his treasured collectibles atop the bookshelf—too pricey for easy replacement. A quick perusal uncovered fragments of coffee mug littering the floor.

She exhaled in relief.

_You wouldn't break something sentimental, would you?_

"Just like her." A ball of fabric flew passed her head, wind whistling before it descended on the kitchen tile. "Would it kill you to have a little faith in your boyfriend for once?"

"That's not what I meant," Courtney implored, but Shayne rolled his eyes at her. A deep sigh decided ignoring sounded suitable for the time being.

One by one, articles of clothes layered her forearm as Courtney knelt in front of mirror-coated doors. Her reflection, unnoticed. Attention divided amidst cleaning his tantrum and parceling the correct words to manage it. Not acquiring them and cotton no longer cluttering the floor, she gazed up to discover Shayne behind her.

Blue pools pierced her soul through the mirror as he towered over her squatted form.

Eyes locked, emeralds diving into blended blue seas. A cacophony of opposing emotions, dissonance dancing behind a watery veil. It parted for momentary clarity to flash. Identifiable emotions emerged. Deep-seated sorrow and remorse that vanished in an instant as his shell hardened under her gaze.

_You're still in there, somewhere._

Standing up, Courtney swiveled to Shayne, desperate to soothe his vitriol. Fire-scalded blue now substituted the liquid discord perceived just seconds ago. It muted any attempt at comfort, forearms gluing to her sides in an effort to shrink.

"Then what did you mean, Courtney? Because I'm having a hard fucking time believing that after everything you've said." His hand banging against the mirrored doors obstructed Courtney's exit. Bulky muscle confined her to that space. "You know she warned me? Begged me not to look before she breached their hard limit and broke me like I'm some fucking porcelain doll to be broken."

"Shayne." Courtney ducked under his arm before his lack of self-awareness and absent self-control endangered her further.

_I know you don't mean it, but..._

"You know, if it wasn't for that brat pleading for me to stop, I could have done it. I could have—"

"No, you couldn't, Shayne," Courtney cut him off, tucking herself near the fridge as she observed his unruliness. Clueless as to how to bypass his destructive ways. "And I'm okay with that. Grateful even."

"Why? So that you don't have to visit? So that you can just forget me and fall in love with him?" Shayne punched the mirror. It splintered, a spiderweb of cracks branching out to distort his reflection.

Palm flattened against shattered glass, he hunched over. Chest expanding and deflating with each tortured breath.

"Ignore that. I can't regulate myself, Courtney. My words. My actions. This anger. This foreign need to control everything."

Blood streaked glass as Shayne wiped his palm across his disjointed reflection. He stared at himself for a moment, red splatter overlaying dislocated sections of face. A disturbing grin erupted into bone-chilling laughter before he stormed to the living room and recommenced his pacing.

_This isn't what Bunny is actually like, right?_

Bringing the clothes to the kitchen counter, Courtney resolved to just listening as she folded shirt after shirt. The correct words evaded, previous, mistaken slip-ups imprisoning her tongue. For now, providing ears to his venting consisted the safest choice to avoid worsening things. Even if she hated submitting to his demand.

"FUCK, I can still hear is his taunting, Courtney. Coward this, and coward that." Shayne palmed his ears as if to block inaudible mocking. Claws scratched his cheeks. He whipped around, arm striking out at air. "Is that what you think of me, Courtney? That I'm some incapable coward who needs protecting?"

Withered couch-feet screeched against wood, startling Shayne as untamed fury knocked the sofa into the coffee table. It paused him for a minute, bulldozing his countenance into a blank stare. His hollowed expression melted into familiar softness, twitching lips and anxious eyes scrutinizing the damage.

Mellowness encouraged Courtney to renounce the kitchen's security, fording the living room until Shayne stood an arm's length away. Face to face, touch tarried millimeters from his collar.

Closing the gap, she kneaded knotted muscle to encourage sapphires to her emeralds. Eyes plastered to wilted petals smashed into the floor denied her.

"Bear, what's gotten into you? When have I ever said those things to you?" Affection coasted up his neck to cup his jaw, stroking the stubble-coated lines around his mouth. A soft smile sprouted on her face upon Shayne leaning into her touch. "Sure, you're a bit sensitive, but you're the bravest man I know. Facing this head-on. Pushing your limitations for me."

"Really?" Stiffness tightening his jaw alerted to her error. Teeth grating underneath her delicate fingertips, subtle shifting felt-but-not-seen. It provided Courtney just enough time to shuffle backwards before Shayne shoved past her. Seething. Steam shot through bolted teeth.

"Then why did he tell me to thank you for it, Courtney? YOU, COURTNEY! He told me to thank you."

Wrath decimated the kitchen, bulky muscle side-swiping the entire counter-full of folded shirts. Hard work out the drain as Shayne kicked the fallen garments towards the hallway.

Moments passed before the gravity of his actions settled, and confusion set in.

Blinks of disbelief stilled her feet at the couch. Confounded. Flabergasted. Amused. His anger funneled into the task of moving her belongings into his bedroom, into their room. For now, his became their. Temporary arrangements she hoped to make it permanent one day. It quieted any developing worries of being asked to leave, though juxtaposition still strained her thoughts.

_What's going on inside that head of yours, Bear?_

A sharp cough refocused attention to Shayne's stone-cold glare. Blue lasers aimed at her. Silent pressure for a response to a question that slipped her mind.

"Stop looking so confused and answer me, Goddamint," Shayne ordered, stomping like a petulant toddler. "What did you ask him to do, Courtney?"

_Ask him to do? What are you...OH!_

Gratification flooded Courtney upon deciphering meaning, pieces of the puzzle slotting together. Her request. Alternate Courtney stopping him. Breathing eased, relief infiltrating veins. Weight lifted from her chest while filters disintegrated. He kept his word! He—

"He solved it!" Courtney chirped, unable to withhold thought from air.

"Solved what exactly?"

Silence saturated as Courtney rifled through thoughts. Phrases to articulate her exchange with Bunny, a way to say it without fueling Shayne's fire. Explanations for her request of Bunny to prevent her Alternate's boundary-less antics from shattering Shayne shuffled through her brain. No matter the phrasing, it always lined up with accusations she dismissed earlier.

Rejected accusations Courtney knew Shayne would condemn as lies. Not that she lied on purpose. Not that she considered it a lie at all. Her request made for peace of mind more than anything. In hindsight, though? It looked bad.

_I just wanted to protect you like you protected me._

"I asked you a question, Courtney." Purposeful footfalls echoed off walls as Shayne neared, loitering at the living room's outskirts. Hips propped on the kitchen counter. Arms crossed his chest; sapphire daggers dissected every inch of her.

"I needed to know you would be okay without me, okay? But I never called you weak, not to him." Words rushed together. Her fortitude unable to withstand his harrowing grimace. Feet propelled her forward, thoughtless movement driven by compulsive cravings for Shayne's heat. Neglecting impulse, Courtney sidestepped Shayne to attend his mess.

"New years, when I Glimpsed?" A profound exhale lowered Courtney as she gathered article after article of clothing from kitchen tile. At least having her back to Shayne facilitated an effortless admission. "She couldn't even handle his tears, Shayne. Do you hear me? She didn't know how to handle crying. Broke down pleading for help when fucking his meltdown away made things worse, for Christ's sake."

"And I didn't want you stuck there with that. With someone incapable of providing comfort." Clothes spilled onto the kitchen countertop, cotton dangling off rounded granite ends. After sorting them into disorganized heaps, Courtney folded each garment before stacking it atop its brethren. "So I asked him to teach her how to console you, or at the very least, not throw her naked self your way and freak you out—"

"You mean like you just did?" Shayne pivoted, pitching forward across the isle to plant a hand on the final stack of tidied shirts.

Emeralds dawdled on broad digits, delicate pads aching to reach for Shayne. Nails slicing through her palm vanquished the urge as she pushed off granite and walked away. Facing him eliminated any vestiges of strength and raised the barrier too high to answer. Embarrassed and guilty, she hated letting Shayne see her like this while in a vulnerable himself.

_You shouldn't have to carry my burden while you recover, I'm sorry._

"I was selfish, okay?" Courtney sighed, leaning against the mirrored closet. Knees threatening to buckle begged to slide to the floor. She resisted, legs quaking in exertion as she refocused on procuring the leftover items from the couch. "A selfish fucking mistake and I'm sorry. It was too much to bear. Seeing you in pain? Between that, waiting in the other room, and letting you wake up to me crying, it sounded like the best option."

"I'm only one person, Shayne. You can't expect me to carry everything without falling." Emeralds peeped over the oversized bundle of fabric now teetering in her arms.

"Why do you love me?" Shayne asked, monotone delivery shivering her spine.

"Excuse me?" Green gems inspected his expression from afar. Unreadable. A flat-mask of anger concealed all other emotions.

"If I'm such a burden to you, why do you love me?" Shayne reiterated.

"I never called you a burden, Shayne," Courtney corrected, concern over his well-being establishing itself within her gut. Paranoia. Misconstrued words. This uncontainable fury. Something was wrong. This wasn't just a foreign-tainted meltdown or a spiral. Whatever he stole from Alternate Shayne destroyed his mental faculties, his perception.

_No, he's still fixable. Still in there._

"How can I not be?" Shayne pounded the countertop. "I'm useless. Just some dumb, pathetic weight you carry around while he solves all you're fucking problems. Meanwhile, this loser can't even solve one."

"You're wrong."

With a deep breath, Courtney meandered towards Shayne, depositing a formless pile of garments on the counter before sliding up beside him without a word. Side to side—shoulder touching shoulder, they stared at the front door.

"Every time I've woken up, you've been there for me, Shayne. Always knowing exactly what I needed, how to save me." Blond locks bunched against his shoulder.

"Even when I didn't know how to save myself. You solved my stress, solved my guilt." A weak smile tempted her lips. It faded upon perceiving the rigidity hardening Shayne's form as he veered from her once more. Tentative fingers hovered over his back, but he shunned them. "You figured out a safer way for me to visit you, Shayne."

"Which won't even happen now because I fucked it all up, Courtney! I had one fucking job, and I JUST WANT YOU TO VISIT ME!" Shayne shouted, seizing the nearest vase—the one Damien had gifted. It slammed into the ground.

Shattered pieces erupted, shrapnel flying every which way. Forlorn, flaccid, flowerless stems flopped onto dirty-plant water that seeped into the neighboring area rug. Instincts compelled Courtney to secure paper towel and blot the mess up, but the reverberating crash suppressed it.

Shock silenced the room, acted-out rage startling the two of them. Blues and greens darted to the shards of ceramic dotting the vicinity. In a flash, they fastened to one another, Shayne searching for hers before Courtney even ventured to locate his.

Vulnerability shined from Shayne, uncertainty-painted complexion begging for direction. Silent communication warmed her heart, apprehension evaporating. A path to absolving his temper identified.

Subtle but significant, its importance rang clear. For the first time since waking, Shayne deferred to Courtney for instruction instead of speaking over and controlling her. A leadership change, his acceptance of her authority powered through lens-clouded behavior. It foretold her response determining the tone for all subsequent dialogue and interaction.

"Well, at least it wasn't mine?" Courtney shrugged, quaking with a nervous laugh. Something to lighten the air. Ease the storm lashing Shayne's constitution to smithereens. Restrain any budding worries from blossoming into misguided rage. A longshot destined to worsen things upon failing.

But it worked.

Room-tone shifted, tension-heavy atmosphere lifting. A light switch flicked on to off.

Wrath evacuated his upright posturing, sluggish feet dragging against grain substituting it. Collapsing onto a clothes-free couch, Shayne eyed the disaster-cluttered floor and clucked his tongue.

Broad shoulders slumped, a singular chuckle chopping his breath. Then another. And another. Until ragged inhales devolved into body-wracking sobs.

_Well, this is familiar, at least._

Panic to comfort overwhelmed, launching Courtney to the couch. His lack of acknowledgment suspended her in place, reluctant to offend and kindle any waning flames. No reaction reinforced commitment.

Tentative movements tested the waters as Courtney perched on the seat beside Shayne. Blue eyes fixating on the ground neglected her presence. His indifference churned her stomach. Dread invaded, percolating alarm that this latest Glimpse forsook Shayne broken beyond repair.

_The clock's catching up, isn't it?_

"Shayne," Courtney whispered, suspecting tears represented the salience of his actions crashing over Shayne. Self-awareness overtaking.

"Alone." Tears clogged his throat, knuckles dabbing at leaking oceans. Shayne inverted, shriveling into a ball until feet resided on the cushion and knees secreted his face. Desperation pawed at the couch, searching for her. "Alone without you. Alone while you have him. Alone with a two-faced brat who I don't even have feelings for."

"Bunny could never replace you, Bear. Never. Not in a million years." Lithe digits laced with plump fingers, callouses sanding velvet skin. No eye contact yet, but legs elongated, bulky muscle opening up. His acceptance of her affection prompted Courtney's filters to disintegrate and love to overflow.

"It's still you that I dream of. It's still you who I call home. It may not seem like it, right now, but not visiting hurts me too, Shayne. Do you think I want to be separated from the man I see my future with?"

"It will fade, Courtney. It's human nature." Sandpaper spirals toyed with her fingertips, Shayne's unoccupied hand spanning his lap to fiddle with their tangled fingers. Cerulean irises avoided sustained interaction, darting glances and fleeting looks. "Time will move on. You won't see it coming, but it will happen. It'll sneak up on you, little by little until I'm nothing more than a memory.

"Meanwhile, I'm not even sure she could even grow on me, Courtney. Not the version I just met, at least. Fuck, you'll be falling in love with him, and I..." Shayne swallowed, untangling from her to burrow his face in his palms. A stolen glance emptied oxygen-filled lungs. Resounding defeat painful to her ears. "I'll be hoping you'll still love me when I return."

"I'll risk it." Courtney blurted out. "If that's what it takes to find you, I'll risk it."

"I can't ask you to do that." Sealed eyes bowed his head, slow trails of tears dripping onto his thighs.

"You sacrificed monogamy for me, Shayne." Courtney angled towards him, massaging his shoulder to console and encourage approval. Even if she loathed the prospect of Glimpsing onto Damien, Shayne was worth her discomfort. "Let me sacrifice this for you."

"The answers no, Courtney, and you can't convince me otherwise." A body-wracking sob seized her waist before bruising pressure wrenched Courtney onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips. His arms coiling the small of her back crushed her into him.

"I won't let you."

Thoughts of Shayne silencing her through force—not that she minded drowning in his mouth—dissolved as green swam in blue. Chests inflating in time to one another, rhythms overlapping. The world disapparated around her for an instance until he became the universe. Worries fled. Her mind quieted as Courtney started to lean in.

Shayne shook his head.

"I can't let you risk that for me." Tear-streaked cheeks crested his eyes as he tidied a bundle of blonde behind her ear.

Infatuation ceased. Universe cracking upon Courtney realizing what he meant, realizing he was being serious.

"No?" Saliva lumped in her throat, a sticky clog that Courtney choked down. This back and forth near impossible to decipher. It frustrated to no end. Thankfully, care and patience masked irritation, permitting worry to nurture her tone. "Isn't this what you want? For me to visit? So what if I Glimpse onto Dame-Dame? If that's what it takes to find you, to keep you safe, to keep us safe, I'll do it, Shayne. I'll do it for you. Anything for you."

"You'd be jeopardizing more than just that." Coarse pads snuck under white cotton to procure expanses of porcelain waist. Puncturing pressure evoked a sharp yelp from Courtney before Shayne's grip loosened into pleasant massaging. It sizzled out as he savored skin contact. "More than just Glimpsing on to his dick. The things he did to her? The bruises Damien's Alternate left?"

"I don't care how much you love pain." Lips coated exposed neck with saliva as Shayne buried himself in her collar. "If it's far too extreme for my Alternate to inflict, then it's far too intense for you."

"Let me be the judge of that." Dainty fingertips carded through short blonde locks, combing languid strokes until Courtney perceived calm.

"He caned her, Courtney. Beat her bottom purple. Muscle deep bruises that verged on bleeding." Heat coasted downwards until fingers found purchase on her ass. Soft kneading accompanied stifled sobs. "You can't tell me that's something you want to even risk Glimpsing into, can you?"

"You're right, I can't, not without lying." Hips scooted forward as her upper body retracted, palms drifting around his collar to cradle his jaw. Courtney directed his gaze to hers, dipping until foreheads connected. "But that doesn't mean the end of this. Of us. We'll think of something. We'll get through this together. We're in this together, remember?"

"Courtney."

"And even if we can't, Bunny will. I know he will." Courtney forced a smile despite thin streams glistening down her cheeks. Reality kicking in and overpowering. The absolute of never visiting, of them severing ties. She shook her head, blinking eyes lifting to the ceiling. No, she just had to believe in Shayne, believe in his Alternate, believe a safer way existed, and that they would recognize it before time escaped.

"He'll figure something out just like he did for her. For me. He'll do it for you too, you'll see. We'll survive this. We have to." She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "I'll find a way to visit you even if that means bringing our Damien back to help—"

"Fuck, we're meeting with that ass next week," Shayne groaned, head flopping back. "Thanks for reminding me."

"Mind telling me why?" Courtney slipped off his lap, disconcerted that despite not mending bridges with his best friend—former best friend?—they still planned to meet with Damien. "And please don't say we're going back to that God awful diner."

"He wants to test if I can drink myself into Glimpsing." Shayne curled gold thread around his finger, arm now sprawled across the top of the couch. Emotions stabilized, or so it seemed.

"And you agreed?" Incredulous, wide eyes tilted to the side as Courtney swallowed her aggravation. Caked-on salt the lone evidence of cascading streams.

_This is a bad fucking idea, Shayne. When have Damien's plans ever worked out?_

"Foolishly." Puckered lips pulled to the side as Shayne offered a meek smirk, guilty eyes recognizing mistake. Residual tears caked his cheeks

"Fine, but I think we should finalize things with the Alternates first just in case." Twisting to drape an arm across his shoulder, Courtney mitigated a potential relapse of anger with a brief kiss. "And I want to have sex."

"Now, Courtney?" A puzzled Shayne cocked his head, though aggravation rasped his resonance.

_You're getting control of it finally._

"Not now, Silly." Courtney appended, hiding soft laughter as she stole another kiss. Lips millimeters apart, she dove into blue pools. Love. Devotion. Adoration. An exchange between souls. The atmosphere descended, its light-hearted trajectory nosediving into a somber yet passionate one. "But before you try. Before we meet with Damien. I want the memory, and I want it to belong to you, Shayne. Only you."


	50. Shayne

Nothing had happened. Almost a week had gone by, and nothing had happened. No finalizing plans. No completing Courtney's one wish. Nothing but tension-driven bickering, A gift courteous his Alternate. These unmute-able traits of his. This irritating drive to control that Courtney clearly hated.

No amount of filtering stopped its surfacing.

Tiny, unintended orders slipping his lips had kindled fires within the two of them. Their thinned-inhibitions stoked discussions into arguments. Arguments where both agreed, but semi-constrained anger prevented Shayne from surrendering. Another token complimentary of his Alternate.

Though Courtney claimed to understand, her broken mask told a different story. Just glancing at her profile, Shayne could discern the everlasting apprehension swirling her iris into tormented whirlpools. Painted nails slicing the leather steering wheel only served to reinforce his conclusion. She felt it too. This uncertainty that churned his gut. The closest thing to fear he had experienced in a while.

_What if we were lied to?_

A thought that came a little too late as muted-green streaked the passenger-side window of Courtney's car as Shayne propped his head against it. It urged his eyes forward to the ascending sun as it scaled the fading stars hanging above the desolate, beachside road. Thick clouds muted a gradient of red-to-grey as its rays reached for the moon, plaguing tones of navy blue with its warmth.

Closer to the road, silhouetted buildings kissed the horizon line. A beachfront town where they planned to spend the next two nights. One set aside for them, and one for what last week's arguments all loomed around.

The day they scheduled for Damien's experiment.

The reason he chose a town located almost half-of-a-day's drive away —besides the romantic element and lowered-chances of getting caught.

Precautions Courtney demanded, fearing for the worst. Shayne prayed for this to be an overreaction in hindsight, that his Alternate constrained this anger-infused control better than he could. That Damien's plan worked instead of backfiring in their faces like Courtney said it would.

It seemed her disdain for Alternate Damien warped her perception. Her distrust for his best friend amplified. Though somewhere deep inside, Shayne recognized his blame for what it was.

Misguided.

Courtney was right.

Intent mattered little when, in relative perspective, their meetings never ended on a good note. Damien's history of failure provided more than enough reason for doubt. Enough to bolster his most recent purchase digging into his thigh.

The little ribbon-bound box bulged his pants pocket, its velvet-coated frame carving into muscle as it pressed against the door. A poor hiding place chosen in a sleepy daze as they rushed out the door at 3 AM —or whatever ungodly hour they had left. One last-ditch effort to put his ducks in order just in case.

"We can cancel if you want."

Shayne jumped upon hearing Courtney's voice, the seat belt carving into his neck. Choking him. Frantic hands scrambled to free the tightened strap until he caved and just unbuckled it all together.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Courtney placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Her sad smile negated to quell the ambiguity sloshing in his gut, though her beauty still captivated. Somehow, she grew more beautiful with each passing day. "We're here, by the way."

Forcing his gaze to the front window, Shayne noted the beach-side bed-and-breakfast up ahead. A small cottage reminiscent of a beach shack but larger. Expensive-yet-quaint, it held a vintage aesthetic that he knew Courtney loved.

"Why we didn't just rent a cheap motel and save some money, I'll never understand." The melodic notes of her cheery voice redirected Shayne's attention, her honey-kissed cadence masking her less-that thrilled remark. "The town won't lose its charm just because there isn't a little chocolate on my pillow, Shayne."

"Think of it as an early anniversary gift or something." Shayne chuckled, glued to her hypnotizing aura. Silence overtaking the car as sapphires drowned in emerald lakes. Without thought, Shayne pitched forward and stole a kiss. Lingering lips smirked into her taste. "We kind of blew it, huh?"

"We could postpone it." Fingers crawled across his collar as her tone lowered into a breathy husk that heated the shell of his ear. "Give Damien a rain check and spend some quality time, just you and I."

"I've put this off long enough. Since Christmas." Shayne retracted, allowing her now laced fingers to loiter behind his neck. Though blue orbs plummeted, unable to withstand the worry softening her brow. "This is only getting worse, Angel."

"Keyword getting. What if we have time? What if this goes wrong, speeds things up? Or?" Heat slipped down his pecs as Courtney shrunk into herself, fingertips flipping the hem of her sweatshirt. His sweatshirt. Oversized-grey swallowing her figure. "What if..."

"No what-ifs. Not today. We'll talk about this tomorrow. Just enjoy the town for the day, got it?" Pulsing instincts slipped his lips and launched Shayne from the car, not desiring to bear witness to her foreseen disobedience. Pushback this past week's experience expected. Backtalk that he wished he could still tolerate, hating the insecurity it sowed within him and loathing his lack of control's taste.

Slamming the passenger-side door shut, Shayne wrenched open the backseat upon spotting his backpack. Stealthy movements snuck the ribbon-bound box into the pack's main compartment as Courtney exited the vehicle.

With one strap over his shoulder, he bottom-booted the door shut and strutted off to the trunk where Courtney waited. Snatching her fingers, Shayne dragged her into an embrace.

"You know, it's not too late to complete that bucket list of yours." Calloused digits cupped golden locks as he guided her ear to his heart to mitigate any possible fall out.

"Just don't force yourself, okay?" Courtney buried her face in his chest. "I don't want the memory tainted... For either of us."

The day went off without a hitch. Their beachfront room ready and waiting upon checking in. A large suite with a king-sized bed and a porch that led to plains of pristine sand. Its shimmering ocean enticed them in, but they saved that for the night, opting to explore the town instead.

Window shopping and lunch overlooking the water consumed most of their time. Small talk and content silence filling the air. No words needed as they savored their time hand in hand. Courtney tucking herself against his side on occasion, Shayne locking her in place a little too tight. A balance of give-and-take that he struggled not to overpower.

Sunset now loomed as Shayne escorted Courtney down a cobblestone road. His arm hooked around her waist and her ear to his chest; the duo's staggered meander zig-zagged from sidewalk-to-sidewalk until a teal safety railing caught Courtney's eye.

A burst of excitement sent Shayne chasing after her giggles until they reached the metal barricade to find it overlooked a family of sea lions basking atop large jagged rocks.

Gripping the metal bar, Courtney beamed as she lifted to her toes and doubled over. Sea salt whipped their faces as they admired the fat brown blobs coating the rocks below. Though Shayne found himself enchanted with her.

Sapphires traced golden strands that floated through the breeze, tendrils flying across her tooth-baring smile. Upturn lips reached her ears, forming rosy-dusted peaks that cradled shimmering emeralds atop their summits. The falling-sun reflected off her crested gems, its warmth casting a rose-tinted hue across her complexion. Too stunning to ruin with a picture.

_Soon we'll have forever. Someday after this.  
_

The evening breeze chilled Shayne's bare skin, his jacket draped over Courtney's naked shoulders that quivered in time to her chattering teeth. Damp golden locks soaked through his shirt, sea salt overwhelming her usual citrus scent as they lounged across the sand after a quick ocean-swim. Too cold to loiter long yet neither hungered to retreat inside despite the crisp night air puckering their pruned skin.

A large beach towel shielded water-slick legs and swim trunks from the sand. Shayne propped up on his hands, and Courtney situated between his legs. Back flush with his chest, she clutched just above his knees as they gazed upon the stars.

Without the city lights to pollute the night, constellations painted the night sky in an abstract work of art. Yet Shayne's attention laid elsewhere, eyes darting every now and then to the picnic basket where that ribbon-bound box hid. Their bellies filled and cheeks flushed wine, it all came down to timing. To disrupting this brief window of serenity and hoping for the best.

**_A little early to propose, don't you think?_ **

_It's a promise ring, and it's not like we have unlimited time. Or did you somehow forget we're switching? You know what, don't answer that. I don't need you ruining this._

**_Kinda like how you ruined mine?_ **

_Two wrongs don't make a right, you know? And unlike you and your FIANCE, I might not get another chance if Damien's plan backfires, and drinking into a Glimpse fucks things up._

Bearing his weight on his hand, Shayne coiled an arm around Courtney's waist. A soft mewl of approval toppled from her lips as he hauled her closer and placed a delicate kiss atop her head. Something to comfort the rising uncertainty bubbling in his gut. Something to reassure both of them.

**_That's the twat's plan? Christ, we're all doomed._ **

_Of course, you're on her side. Whatever, I don't care. Just shut up and let me have this, got it?_

**_Hey Fucker, I didn't just spend the last week brainstorming for you to just brush me off like a speck of dust. So, unless she changed her mind about visiting_ ** _—_

_How did you? We haven't even—_

**_Thinking ahead, Fuck-face. Maybe you should try it for once?_ **

_Really? You expect me to believe that you —the guy who's done nothing but insult me since day one— cared enough to formulate a plan for me?_

**_Her not visiting affects me too, you know. Or is that ego of yours so inflated that you can't see past your own ass?_ **

Searing pain prevented Shayne from answering, energy funneled into bolting his mouth shut as Alternate Shayne took control. Tendrils of tattered soul pried Shayne's essence away from deep-rooted handholds until Shayne became a spectator within his own form. Forced to watch as his Alternate drew Courtney closer. A raspy chuckle vibrated into skin as he placed an open-mouth kiss on her neck.

Courtney stiffened. Her breathing stopped. Clear indicators that she recognized the man behind her as his Alternate. Shayne ached to see her face, gauge her emotions, and decipher the chaos that whipped her brain. Instead, polished nails stabbing his knuckles served the lone hint to her headspace as she started scratching to escape.

Not the reaction he expected, though Alternate Shayne's emotions remained level as if he anticipated her alarm. Still, it added to his swirling unrest, weaving strings of evidence-less explanations for her reaction — Courtney forgetting their agreement, or her guilt reemerging with a vengeance.

"Easy, Love," Alternate Shayne said, nipping at her earlobe, though palms lifting in surrender liberated her. He leaned back, granting Courtney space. "He's still in here if you're worried. It's me, Love. It's just me."

In an instant, blonde tresses whipped the air as she spun, golden threads falling in a frazzled-tizzy. Chest heaving, the panic marring her face softened as she caught her breath. An ache to comfort pulsated through Shayne, desperation to pluck his Alternate from his post and regain command.

No amount of will-power succeeded.

"Last time. Last time I had my back to you..." Forehead dropping to his pecs, Courtney planted her hands between her thighs. His stomach rolled as she plucked at the stray threads, unraveling their beach towel. "She... You... What are you doing here, Bunny?"

"It's good to see you too, Dove." Alternate Shayne stifled a laugh as he tidied a bundle of hair behind her ear. Shayne shuddered at the adoration transfusing between souls. The edges, defining who it originated from, dissolved into a mystery. "It's bad timing, but I was hoping we could test this little plan I've been working up. Something to help navigate Dames' session. Make you visiting him safer. But it _—_ "

"Plan? You have a plan already?" One or two blinks flicked a switch, and weight lifted from her shoulders, pure happiness lighting her features in a mesmerizing smile. Without warning, Courtney launched at Alternate Shayne, legs latching around his waist, and arms coiling his shoulders. Lithe limbs constricting squeezed the air from his lungs. "I told you, Bear. I said he would figure something out."

"Hey now, I'm not even sure this will work," Alternate Shayne laughed, pulling back to match her grin. For a moment, neither spoke. Something Shayne appreciated, enamored with her exuberance. That smile. One that he had missed these last few weeks. One that a shift in his Alternate's soul predicted not to last.

Emotional undertones billowed from Alternate Shayne's soul, the same ambiguity, though his was laced with fear. Any satisfaction garnished from Courtney's smile dwindled, his own grin replaced with a melancholy frown.

"Nor that you'll actually agree to it."

"What's there not to agree to? You found a way to make it safe." Courtney seized the lapels of his blue-striped button-down, leveraging her hold to tow him forward until her tongue slipped his lips. Shayne groaned at the muted whines vibrating against his tongue, yearning to control Alternate Shayne's reciprocation, or at the very least, open his eyes to gawk.

Still, the undulating heat between them and the canting of hips scorched Shayne with desire. Desire he yearned to act on, once his Alternate departed. Passion killed when that ominous cloud thickened in his gut.

"You trust me, right?" Alternate Shayne murmured against her lips, the waver in his tone ending their kiss.

Emeralds plummetted, elbows retracting to her sides. Shrinking. Shriveling. Any vestiges of earlier's joy eviscerated into a timid little mess.

"I need an answer, Love." Broad digits securing her hips urged eyes upward.

A subtle nod responded, worry gnawing her lower lip.

"If we schedule your Glimpses —let's say for the second and fourth Sunday of every month? She and Dames can work around it."

Courtney opened her mouth to speak, but Alternate Shayne hushed her with a finger.

"That's the easy part." Alternate Shayne tossed his head with a sigh before wrenching Courtney towards him. Callouses cradled her head, steering her ear to his heart. Acts of consolation that twisted Shayne's soul in a knot. Not out of intimacy, but from the angst that powered it.

"There will be emergencies, though." Air evacuated his lungs in a heavy sigh as Alternate Shayne nuzzled golden locks. "Times when she needs Dames regardless of the schedule. You've been in her mind, she's as far from stable as someone can get. It's why I love her. Part of it, at least."

"I don't see how—"

"I'm getting there, Love." Spiraled pads combed down her hair, tangling loose loops around knuckles. Shayne discerned this as preemptive comfort. Whatever plan Alternate Shayne had concocted, it possessed the potential to shatter. "You know that space where you're on the cusp of Glimpsing, but not too far gone. That state where a connection's made, and you can hear her?"

Courtney nodded.

"You won't like this, but..." Alternate Shayne kissed her forehead. "She's going to warn you if Dames is there. That way, you can opt-out of the visit and try again on the next scheduled date. But I need to know you can stop a Glimpse from happening, and—"

"How?" Courtney blurted out, words trembling on her breath too disjointed to decipher. Muffled in his chest. Swallowing, she pitched back. Shayne's heart sunk, upon noting the tears pooling on her lashes. "...A-after she tricked me into Glimpsing right onto you?"

"That's why I was hoping to test it, prove it works, and put these silly doubts of yours to rest." Alternate Shayne cupped her cheek, consoling her with another short kiss. "But your boyfriend... Let's just say, tonight's not the right night."

_Make the right night then, GODDAMNIT! I don't care about some stupid fucking ring if it means she'll visit me._

**_And what if it fails? We both know the state she returns in. Though you could always postpone this fucking waste-of-time meeting tomorrow. If that's even an option._ **

_FUCK..._

**_I didn't think so._ **

"It has to be. There might not be... What if time catches us before..." Courtney struggled to withhold the puddles clogging her throat. "You've been M-I-A for a week, and tomorrow--"

"Here's hoping it doesn't come to that, Cherub." Alternate Shayne forced a smile. "If not, well, that's the hard part. You're going to have to trust her."

In that moment, everything flew off the table. Romantic gestures Shayne had hoped to cap the night off with no longer viable as her quiet sniffles devolved into ragged sobs. No ring. No crossing out bucket-list wishes. No bolting down their love. Not when the air weighing heavy on his chest forbade it. Not after Alternate Shayne had ruined the mood.His agenda discarded in an instant as Shayne readied to contain the aftermath of his Alternate's mistake.  
****


	51. Shayne

Shafts of sunlight danced through amber liquid, iridescent beams piercing stained glass. Their light warped with every bottle penetrated until it bisected the six-pack, its yellow-hazed now an abstract pattern of blotches on the wooden floorboards. Goldens bled into dark-cherry oak, where Shayne's eyes lingered as he traced imaginary patterns in the polished grain.

Muffled-shouting diffused through the suite's front door, too quiet to discern proper words but too loud to ignore. Courtney and Damien. Their arguing grew louder, with each second on the clock.

Every bone ached to order her to stop, to wrench her aside, and end this pettiness. Even if he agreed. Damien's early arrival underscored the flimsiness that plagued his plans. Weak planning skills that pervaded each procedural step. Missteps that sacrificed time. Hours sanctioned for alone time now wasted upon acquiring a third wheel.

Time allotted for that ribbon-bound box now tucked inside the main compartment of his backpack in preparation for a nature walk. A maze of flowers the receptionist had told Shayne about upon returning from that morning's coffee run. Too bad Damien's text had stopped their departure with one foot out the door.

Surveying the room, Shayne leaped from six-pack to six-pack, darting over the various hard-liquor bottles scattered in-between. Palms pushed against the mattress, its plush pillow-top engulfing his hands until he reached the firm boxsprings underneath. Too much force lurched Shayne forward until he toppled into the dresser across the bed, his attention focused on evading the glass bottles on the floor.

Fingertips curled around the edge of the bureau as Shayne steadied his footing. His relocation brought him closer to the door, allowing Courtney's relentless comebacks to infiltrate his eardrums. Muted words that he failed to parcel, though the fear lacing her tone rang clear.

Desperate for a distraction, Shayne averted his gaze to the mirror, standing upright against the wall. Dark shadows hollowed his features, exhaustion and stress contaminating his stubble-coated complexion. Effort expended on overthinking the past few days, and the events today claimed to promise. Mental energy depleted over-analyzing one or two hours. Hours Shayne ached to get on with as he located the bottle opener Damien had placed on the bureau.

_Now or never, right?_

**_You're really going through with this, huh? You might just be braver than I thought._ **

_Again with the horrible timing? Christ, this is getting old. What is this time? You want to double down on that faulty plan of yours or something?_

**_Watch it, Lover-Boy. I never said it was perfect. Why do you think? Though by the sound of things, she seems to have it covered._ **

Calloused fingerpads coiled a bottle's neck as Shayne stooped to grab a beer on his return to the bed. Bunched-up blankets puffed out as he plopped down, popping off the bottle cap in one swift movement.

_Who are you?_

Lukewarm liquid slathered his throat, bitterness lingering on his tastebuds. Keys jingling drew his attention to the door.

**_Say again?_ **

_You make for one hell of a convincing liar, you know that? Saying you'll let her take charge with this-THIS compulsion to control cycling your veins?_

**_Hush, you'll learn to regulate it in time. Provided you have any after this, and that we're still tangled..._ **

_Fuck, I cannot wait to have you out of my head._

**_You stubborn onion, if our connection breaks, how are you going to contact her?_ **

_I never_ _thought_ —

"Well, maybe you should have thought about that before showing up three hours early!" Courtney stormed into the room, too involved with Damien to heed the open bottle in Shayne's hand. Pivoting on her toe, she aimed an aggressive stance at Damien as she situated herself between the dresser and the bed.

Endeavors to catch her eye through the mirror disappointed, her focus on the open doorway unbreakable. He considered speaking up, but the harsh angles leveling her features warded him off.

"Look, I get you're still mad at me, but Shayne agreed to this." Damien kicked the door closed behind him, hands flying as he spoke. "And I'm sorry I'm early, but nothing's stopping you two. As I told you before, I'm perfectly happy staying behind while you two abscond to God knows where. I don't mind, really! After all that driving, I could actually use a nap."

"Ever think we wanted to put this room to use when we got back?" Anger masked her desperation. Well-hidden, though, a close inspection discerned little glimmers of her inner turmoil swirling in her narrowed jewels. More proof resided just below, dark circles breaching layers of caked-on foundation concealing last night's restless slumber.

Haunted dreams and rolling thoughts had tossed-and-turned Courtney throughout the night. Flailing Shayne witnessed as he laid wide awake beside her, incapable of sleep. Too insecure with their future to decompress.

"You had all day yesterday, didn't you?" Damien quirked an eyebrow, disbelief widening his eyes. "And last night?"

Emeralds lowered to avoid the question and fastened to Shayne as if seeking his support. Though unaware of that little ribbon-bound box still gnawing at his skull, her disappointment rivaled his, Damien's reminder flooding her expression. Short-lived, her defeat evaporated as her green irises' descended.

"You started without us?" Realization widened her eyes for a split second before she sucked in air and flattened her lips into a line. It wavered at the edges, switching between a pout and a frown.

Her throat bulged as she swallowed.

"Without me?" The words hitched her breath, a bare whisper that constricted his gut and dismantled his defenses.

Guilt perforated Shayne's weakened barriers, the beer gaining weight in his hand. His actions. Decisions made alone. Choices that hindsight regretted. They all accumulated into weighted regret.

_Fuck it, too late to back out now._

"It's five o'clock somewhere?" Shoulders touching his ears joined a fake laugh as Shayne waggled the bottle at her with a sheepish grin. Hoping to lighten the mood. Hoping to bypass the agitation overtaking her emerald eyes.

It silenced the room.

**_Didn't take you for a jerk, though I suppose you're full of surprises today, go figure._ **

"Bad joke, sorry." Shayne grounded his gaze. Cool glass grazed his lips as he took another pull. Warm beer trickled down his esophagus, his tongue retracting in disgust.

_Nah, that's just your bull-crap leaking through. Fuck, I can't wait to be myself again. Hate this. Hate what you've made me. Christ, I hope to God Damien's plan ends this shit._

**_Careful what you wish for, Dumbo._ **

_Without switching, better?_

**_I can't take this idiocy of yours. Call if you need me, and by that I mean, don't._ **

"You really think joking at a time like this is gonna help?" Courtney's lips thinned as nails dug into her hip. Hardened eyes matched her pointed brow. "I mean, the least you could do is wait for me? What if—"

"It's just one beer, right?" Shayne countered, words escaping their ivory jail.

Flames danced within her irises, her chest heaving as Courtney rolled her shoulders back and stormed towards him. Stopping at his knees, she towered over him. Seething. Ready to fight. Argue. Redirect her Damien-oriented rage to him.

"Chill, my Dudes!" Damien called, his tone and word choice provoking a cringe from Shayne and Courtney. "Glad you're still on board, Man, but there's something we need to discuss. Before the beer starts messing with your head."

"Maybe you should have said something sooner then?" Shayne quirked an eyebrow, finishing the bottle off in a single swig.

"Well, someone here had to interrupt me." Damien glared at Courtney.

"Really? You're blaming it on me?" Courtney spat back, spinning on a dime to face her accuser. Heavy footfalls echoed as she marched towards Damien. Her eyes sharpened into knives that she trained on him, puffed out chest and upright shoulders allotting an intimidating stance. "Say one more thing about this being my fault, and I swear to fucking God I won't hold back."

A stifled chuckle fled Shayne as she jabbed her pointer into Damien's sternum, earning a meek, fearful expression from the brunette.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, can we just put our differences aside and talk like normal human beings?" Damien faltered backwards, palms raised in surrender.

"We're listening, so talk." Eyes locked-on Damien, Courtney shuffled backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed, and Shayne's leg brushed her thigh.

"Uh, you might want to be sitting for this..."

Shayne swore Courtney growled, but he chalked it up to the tension playing games with his mind.

"Just get on with it, would you?" Shayne commanded, pinching the neck of another bottle. Lithe digits clasping his shoulder urged his eyes to its source. Granting Courtney a weak simper, Shayne placed the beer at his foot in favor of fiddling with the bottle opener he had discarded to the floor earlier.

"So, I went back to the diner—"

"Why would you—" Courtney started.

"Let me finish." Damien raised a palm to hush her.

Claws pierced Shayne's shoulder, prompting his blues to her face. The same annoyance his unintentional demands invoked now toyed with her confidence.

Without thought, Shayne wrapped his arm around the small of her back, his hand mingling between hip and ass. It seemed to calm Courtney, nails withdrawing as her posture drooped.

"I went to get that waitress's info. Charlotte or Charlie, I think her name was?" He paused upon noticing the confusion on their faces, or at least Shayne figured as much. "You know, since she burned you and all, I figured maybe you could sue, or at least get her fired, but..."

"Right, because with everything that's going on in my life, my top priority is getting revenge on some bat-shit crazy bitch?" Shayne snatched the second beer off the ground.

"Hey now, if I hadn't, I wouldn't have found out she doesn't work there."

"So, they fired her?" Courtney interjected, smirking. "Good for them."

"Nah, it turns out, you can't fire someone who was never hired." Damien pulled a chair from the desk and straddled its back. "I asked everyone, the managers, the waitstaff. Hell, even some of the guests. No one by her name nor description works there. Never has."

The sound of Shayne popping the bottle-cap off punctuated Damien's sentence.

"How? That doesn't..." Buckling knees forewarned of her collapse, legs betraying Courtney as she landed butt-first on the bed.

"Weird, right?" Damien chuckled.

"You think she's behind this? That Charlie girl?" Shayne arranged his arm further up her waist, towing her to his side, but Courtney resisted. He resolved for a soft grip as he chugged a large mouthful of beer to circumvent the unneeded remarks tainting his tongue. "That's why you always brought us to the place?"

"Not exactly..." Damien eyed Shayne, scrunching his eyebrows in disapproval. "I suspected it had something to with the Diner, but never mind that, we can investigate Charlie later. So we doing this or—"

"How? How'd you know?" Clutching his knee, Courtney pitched forwards as confused curiosity broadened her expression. A breathy chuckle fled Shayne's mouth, forgetting their predicament to her adorable puckered lips. Plucking at his jeans incited Shayne to capture her hand, slotting his fingers between hers. "What made you suspicious?"

"First off, I intended to tell you this the first time we met there, but things went kinda haywire."

"You can say that again." Shayne laughed.

"My question?" Courtney bit through clenched teeth.

"It was one of if not the last place both of you ate together before everything started." A profound sigh deflated Damien's lungs. "Combine that with the fact that no one else from Smosh ate there? Kinda figured it was a good place to start. And it just so happens, I was right. Awesome, huh?"

Silence weighed the air as his explanation sunk in, idle time that pricked Shayne's fingertips with worry. Thumbing the bottle's mouth, Shayne peeked through the corner of his eye to study Courtney. Fluctuating emotions scrambled her irises, and trembling lips complemented their turbulence. It disheartened him, his grip on her waist tightening without thought.

"I'm sorry." Blonde hair curtained Courtney's countenance as she slumped into Shayne's shoulder. Habit tucked her tight to his side as he hooked his chin atop her head. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. For thinking you were dumb for picking that place. I should have—"

Pride illuminated his face as Shayne gawked at her bravery, at how she conquered her altered perception of Damien to apologize.

"Don't worry about it." A rueful smile softened Damien's features as a melancholy laugh troubled his bowed head. "Mistakes happen, and honestly, I wouldn't have had much faith in me either after everything. And I'm sorry for not taking your word at face value at the party, and the Diner, and the alleyway. I just got so caught up worrying about Shayne, and I just..."

"I vowed to be there for you, and I wasn't. I broke my promise, and I can't apologize enough." Rubbing his palms together, Damien locked eyes with Courtney for a moment before shifting to Shayne. " Really, I can't, but can we just move on? The last thing I want is to become the third wheel who ruins your fun AND spends the night."

"I'm good to go whenever." Lifting his half-finished bottle in the air, Shayne smirked at his best friend before swiveling to Courtney. Blonde locks bunched against his pecs as she snuggled closer, fingers crawling up his chest to hook the collar of his shirt. A faint grin stretched his lips before he kissed the top of her head and mumbled, "Court?"

"You were right about that..." Courtney trailed off, nuzzling Shayne. A deep breath lifted her shoulders as she leveraged his shirt to hoist herself high enough to kiss his neck. "Any chance you'd back out if I say no?" Velvety lips tickled his skin as her voice faded. Confidence dissolved, words wavering on her breath and her hesitation clear. It churned Shayne's gut, his face falling and air plummeting his lungs.

"We've been over this, Angel." Spiraled pads tidied a bundle of blonde behind her ear before trailing her jaw to cradle her chin. Tilting her gaze to him, Shayne stole a kiss. Quick but emotional, he withdrew to drown in her green jewels. Puddles teetered on her lashes, a stark difference from the anger-fueled resilience observed moments ago. "I promise to come back to you."

The room spun as Shayne finished his eighth beer, gagging on the tepid amber-liquid. Bitterness magnified the nausea threatening to erupt from his stomach, acidity corroding its lining. The incessant flip-flopping of his gut only worsened things further, intestines inverting in protest.

No sign of static yet, though after his sixth beer --all consumed in a row, alcohol-poisoning loomed closer and closer to reality as Damien incorporated 'just one more drink' into his mantra. Adamant for results, and Shayne found himself agreeing until now. Meanwhile, Courtney clung to him, mumbling her concern into his shoulder.

"Anything?" Damien asked as Shayne chucked the empty at the spread-out pile. Its once-crisp lines decayed into wavy blurs as intoxication tampered with his vision. Glass clattered against wood as the bottle landed a couple feet from his target before rolling across the floor.

"Better than things wrong." Coherency evaded Shayne as he slumped over, an abrupt and unconscious decision. Vertigo crashed over him, the room whirling in short spurts as the walls elongated, hoisting the ceiling higher and higher until it plummeted.

Everything shrank.

Everything but him. The room suddenly too small, and walls threatening to suffocate. Courtney comforting his back eased their advance to a tolerable level, her hand stroking circles as sweet nothings grounded Shayne to the bed.

Sitting up, Shayne leaned into her, swapping their earlier roles as he burrowed under her arm. Her heart pounded out a steady rhythm in his ear that lulled his eyelids into dropping.

**_You're a clingy drunk, I see._ **

_Shut up._

"Don't suppose you could handle another, could ya?" Unease infiltrated Damien's question, a choppy laugh catching on his breath. Its ridiculous nature spurred Shayne's eyes to open.

"I think that's enough," Courtney said before Shayne had a chance to reply. Daggers fired from her eyes, their sharp points targetting Damien. Warmth painted down his bicep and clutched his waist as she tugged him closer.

Her embrace turned claustrophobic in his inebriated state, her grasp too tight, and the atmosphere too thin. Shayne siphoned air into his lungs, oxygen charging his brain until vertigo pulsed with more strength.

Space, he needed space.

"Shayne!" Worry tainted Courtney's tone as Shayne launched to his feet.

Unstable limbs trembled as he struggled to balance, his upper body swaying in large, uncoordinated movements. It amplified his dizziness until ascending bile prompted Shayne forwards.

"Shayne, wait."

Ignoring Courtney, Shayne stumbled over the liquor-bottle clogged floor, staggered footfalls zig-zagging from wall-to-wall. Gravity ensnared his ankles, its tentacles spiraling up his legs and constricting around his torso. Speed circumvented its grasp as he raced towards the bathroom, feet slipping out behind him, and thrashing-arms offsetting skewed equilibrium. Almost comedic if not for the acidity crawling up his tongue.

Fear ceased his heart.

His toe.

The protruding trim that marked the threshold between rooms.

Shayne tripped.

Darkness immersed Shayne as he clamped his eyelids shut, but the anticipated crash-landing never came. Two hands seizing his biceps prevented him from hitting the cool tile floor. One small and one large. Courtney and Damien.

They hoisted Shayne to his feet.

"Off, I need off, need space," Shayne choked out, their prolonged hold fueling his sense of entrapment.

Damien nodded and let go, but Courtney just tightened her hold.

"Bear," Courtney whispered, squeezing his muscle as if to soothe.

"I SAID OFF!" A sharp jerk liberated him, the momentum thrusting Shayne head first into the marble countertop.

Clumsy hands secured its rim just in time to dodge the metal spout that jutted out from the polished surface, though his head still collided with solid rock. Dizzy. Painful. Far too drunk. Puking into the sink basin, he shoved off of the cold marble counter.

Bulky, uncoordinated muscle floundered backwards until he collapsed against the wall, colors blooming across his vision. He barely registered Courtney hurrying to his side nor Damien situating himself in the corner. All attention funneled into the constant ringing in his ear. Its incongruous tone distorted, notes glitching into a skipping-record that reverberated into static.

_FUCK._

White noise scoured his skull, rasping away layer after layer to expose his mangled essence. Its constant hum fragmented into disharmonious dissonance that projected sounds of the Alternate's world into his. His Alternate. Her Alternate. Indistinguishable voices that didn't belong. Too loud. Too prominent. It competed with Courtney's water-logged apologies as she kneeled between his legs, hands clutching his hips.

"Static," Shayne coughed out. Purposeful blinks failed to vanquish the stampeding static barreling towards his vision. Her scowl bent into a crooked grin. Cor-Cor's collar flashed across her neck. Brief glimpses of Alternate Courtney that lasted no longer than a second.

Something was wrong.

"Not your fault," Shayne croaked, seizing Courtney's waist. An anchor to their world as tears overflowed from his blue oceans and spluttered from his tongue. "Love you. Angel, I love you."

"Bear, I love you too, but you're not going anywhere." Courtney cupped the back of his head, urging him to bury himself in her collar. "I won't let you. I won't."

Static obscured her words.

"No stopping it. Never stopped it. No control, remember?" Shayne stifled a sob as static inundated his entire being. Pins and needles gushed through his veins, piercing his muscle from the inside out. A phenomenon different than anything felt before. It diverged from all previous Glimpses, tints of toxicity riding its edges as his Alternate encroached. "You were right. Bad idea. Mistake."

Words tasted foreign to his tongue, his timbre sounding foreign to his ear. Overlapping souls vibrated, dislodging Shayne's essence from the control panel. Premature vacancy that his Alternate's spirit zoned in on in a heartbeat.

Without hesitation and without time to defend, Shayne felt his soul evacuate, handholds pried clean. Similar to when Alternate Shayne willfully took over, but subtle undertones distinguished it.

In an instant, everything morphed. White noise destroyed the barriers diving two worlds and augmented his vision.

Images of the Alternate's universe overlayed the hotel bathroom. Courtney and Alternate Courtney flickered between themselves. All touched by static, and all marred with glitchy streaks.

Blue eyes ventured higher, where a silhouette of white noise distorted Damien's appearance beyond recognition. The lone unknown entity. Faceless despite encompassing the heart of their long-distance communication problems.

Closing his eyes, Shayne tunneled in on Courtney's heat as it radiated through his palms, but static overpowered him. His will power unable to smother its promise as it obliterated his senses one-by-one.

Courtney's sweet-citrus scent lost potency. Her warmth grew cold. Numbness superseded all sensory input until static-laced darkness was all that remained.

With one last gasp for air, the world vanished, and Shayne plunged into the unknown.

**_I'll take good care of her, I promise._ **

.S.W.I.T.C.H.


	52. Teaser: Courtney

"You have your own apartment, you know that, right?" Courtney asked, rapping her fingers along the front door to her apartment as she held it open all the while body-blocking Alternate Shayne from entering. Dark shadows hollowed his eyes, disheveled hair matted with grease. Exhaustion that extended to herself, her emotions far too unstable to sleep. Not since Shayne and his Alternate had traded places. Five days, and four sleepless nights and counting. 

The scent of alcohol wafted off his unbuttoned, dark-grey button-down, the sleeves rolled to his elbow and hem hanging over black, acid-washed jeans. Disgruntled and unkempt. The same attire as last night, down to the pastel pink shirt with the rose. Of all the shirts in Shayne's wardrobe, that seemed to be Alternate Shayne's favorite.

"You tried again, didn't you?" A hefty sigh deflated her lungs as Courtney stepped aside. Worry warped her features as he staggered in, swaying side-to-side as he stumbled towards the couch. "What does this make it, the fifth time?"

"Does it fucking matter? The static never comes. I never hear him." Alternate Shayne groaned as he collapsed onto the sofa, arms sprawling across its top. Lifting his gaze to the ceiling, a raspy laugh steeped in sarcasm and self-hatred cut his breath. "Do you know how cold a bed gets without someone to hold?"

"You're going to have to learn to sleep alone eventually." The weak smile wavering on her lips held little to no conviction as Courtney took a tentative seat beside him. Close enough to clasp his shoulder without straining while leaving a few inches between their legs. Barriers she pretended to maintain out of guilt. Feigned distancing constructed to mitigate the one-sided nature of her open relationship with Shayne.

_I'll visit you soon._

A false promise she repeated every night.

"It's been years since I've slept alone, you do realize this." Burnt blue eyes fastened to hers as he combed his fingers through her hair. Calloused pads grazed the nape of her neck now and then, sending shivers down her spine.

"And you've only given it what, four days? I told you—"

"To give it a week? Do you know what a week of no sleep will do to me?" Fire descended her bicep and slipped under her arm to seize her waist. In one swift movement, Alternate Shayne heaved Courtney into his lap, his palm flattening over her stomach. Hot breath tickled the shell of her ear, teeth scraping skin. A distraction tactic Courtney both loved and hated. "What was the purpose of our proposal if we're just going to play strangers?"

"Bunny," she breathed as his fingers strolled along her sternum, her cotton tank-top dipping under his pressure until flames scalded skin. "Not tonight, not now. Not when--"

"When you won't visit her? Check-in on the center of my world because you're scared?" Shoving Courtney off, he launched to his feet and started pacing. Intoxication magnified his agitation, a constant state for him as of late. "She's probably fucking that twat right now, got her tight little pussy—"

"LANGUAGE!" Courtney shouted.

"Yeah, yeah, it's not like you're the sad slop who agreed to be cheated on." Alternate Shayne pivoted. Grabbing her shirt, he lifted Courtney to her feet, hoisting her upwards until their eyes met. Frustration contaminated his navy pools, though hints of worry and insecurity glimmered underneath. A glass canon of confidence that shattered with ease. "You know, I wouldn't have agreed to any of this had I known you'd back out of our agreement."

"You know that's not true," Courtney coughed out, scratching at his hands. "I'm here for you, and I'll check up on her. On him. I will. Just give me time. Just..." A soft sob cut her short as memories of Shayne escaped the coffin she had buried them in. The only way she could survive the day without breaking, yet each night they fled their grave and chased her into Bunny's arms.

At least tonight deviated from their hurt-comfort routine, their brief confrontation refreshing despite the harshness displayed. Still, it ended the same as always, tears cascading down her cheeks as Courtney succumbed to his embrace.

Lowering Courtney to the ground, Alternate Shayne stroked down her arms to secure her waist, tight but not painful. He backed them into the couch, guiding her onto his lap so that her knees straddled his thighs. A familiar position Courtney permitted as she crumpled against his chest, bawling.

"FUCK, why didn't I intervene? I should have intervened. Should have stopped it. Should have given us time to test it." Salt crisped his tongue as puddles swelled in his eyes. Wetness mouthed her neck as tears overcame Alternate Shayne, his embrace tightening until clothes became the only thing separating them. "We're gonna fix this. I'm going to fix this. I promise."


End file.
